


The Way of the Warrior.

by sasha_dragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 94,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_dragon/pseuds/sasha_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After events in Milwaukee, Sam and Dean are trying to lie low to keep themselves off Agent Hendrickson’s radar. To stop his brother from driving him insane due to boredom, Sam finds them what he thinks is a simple hunt, but life is never simple for the Winchesters. Soon the brothers find themselves trying to protect a group of civilians from a tribe of angry Native American ghosts. Faced with the prospect of seeing his brother and innocent people die, Dean agrees to undergo an ordeal which will to push him to the limits of both his strength and courage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** The Way of the Warrior.  
 **AUTHOR:** [](http://sasha-dragon.livejournal.com/profile)[**sasha_dragon**](http://sasha-dragon.livejournal.com/)  
 **ARTIST:** [](http://roselani24.livejournal.com/profile)[**roselani24**](http://roselani24.livejournal.com/)  
 **BETA:**[](http://bigj52.livejournal.com/profile)[ **bigj52**](http://bigj52.livejournal.com/)  
 **RATING:** R (Violence and the odd F-bomb here and there)  
 **WORD COUNT: 90K** (I'd rather not talk about it)  
 **WARNINGS:** None, except if you don’t like to see Dean hurt, look away now....and is naked Dean a warning or an enticement?  
 **DISCLAIMER:** I can say hand on heart I do not own the Winchesters (for that Dean will be forever grateful), nor am I profiting from this. This was written out of love for characters that have encouraged my imagination to run riot. And I will be forever grateful to Eric, Jared and Jensen for bringing them to life. Feedback is always very welcome.  
 **SUMMARY:** After events in Milwaukee, Sam and Dean are trying to lie low to keep themselves off Agent Hendrickson’s radar. To stop his brother from driving him insane due to boredom, Sam finds them what he thinks is a simple hunt, but life is never simple for the Winchesters. Soon the brothers find themselves trying to protect a group of civilians from a tribe of angry Native American ghosts. Faced with the prospect of seeing his brother and innocent people die, Dean agrees to undergo an ordeal which will to push him to the limits of both his strength and courage.  


  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/sasha_dragon/pic/0002geht/)   


 

  
Way of the Warrior Prologue

 

Then In the silence of a moonlit landscape, a dark shape disturbed the peace. The warm night was still, without a whisper of wind in the air. There were no eyes to witness the passing of the lone walker as they moved through the darkness. They moved with a practiced ease that spoke of a long familiarity with their surroundings. The walker paused and listened to the soft sounds of the desert, then looked back over his shoulder. In the distance the lights of the town twinkled, an electric imitation of the stars in the clear night sky. Satisfied they were alone in this place, they began to walk through the scrub once more. They walked slowly and carefully over the uneven terrain, occasionally adjusting the large canvas bag they carried.

Finally the walker reached the destination; rising up out of the night was a ridge of sheer rock face. It cast ever deeper shadows in the pale silver light, showing the graceful curvature of a box canyon and its entrance. This was as far as they would go. This land they stood upon was sacred, but the canyon represented the holiest of places to their people. The walker stopped and placed the bag on the dusty earth. Crouching down by the bag they unzipped it. The walker’s movements were unhurried and patient, there was no need to rush as they knew they would have to be careful. Soon they would be awakening forces that needed to be treated with respect, and appeased with offerings.

A blanket was pulled from the bag and laid upon the ground then a drum followed from the depths of the bag. Finally a fire was prepared, a small pit was dug by hand, and pieces of scrub and bush were gathered. The twigs were laid carefully in place, and at last the walker sat down cross-legged on the blanket and continued their preparations. Several bowls were arranged in front of them; these were filled with herbs, grains and meat. Last of all the bag was placed to one side, everything was ready.

It was time, time to walk the path of the shaman to embrace the spirits of the ancestors, the shaman tilted back their head and checked to see if the full moon had reached its zenith. This was important - the time had to be right. The shaman leaned forward and lit the fire with a lighter. As the fire flickered into life, herbs were thrown into the flames, giving the air a pungent aroma. The lone shaman was at last satisfied that everything was ready. The drum was picked up and a slow steady beat echoed through the night. The drum’s music pulsed with the rhythm of life in time with the heartbeat of the drummer. The drum continued its hypnotic beat and finally a voice began to chant softly, the words ancient, carrying a prayer for help. A call to the ancestors of the tribe, to come and help them in their hour of need, pleading with the fallen warriors to heed the prayer and accept the offerings of meat, grain and blood. To honour a promise made many moons ago.

The drumming quickened its pace as the player called on the ancestors with increasing fervour, allowing the song, the drum and the fire’s flickering light to carry them away, back to the time when the tribes had held dominion over this land, and not the white man. Even now in the twenty-first century, the old ways could still call the shaman back, remind them of the way of the ancestors when the peoples had roamed the plains of America. Before they had been herded onto reservations, pieces of land the white man did not want.

The voice carried further and clearer as the present was stripped away, and the past returned to reclaim them. Finally the drumming and the song ceased, the final offerings were made as the contents of the bowls were tipped into the flames, again filling the air with the smells of herbs and now-cooking meat. There was one final act to complete the ritual. A hand was outstretched over the flames, and a stone blade cut into the palm. A few drops of blood hissed and sizzled as they met the flames then the shaman sagged forward, exhausted, spent from the effort of the ritual.

There had been no clap of thunder, or flash of lightning. Nor had there been loud voices proclaiming the chant had been heard, or the offerings accepted. But still they knew their prayer had been answered, and a smile slowly appeared on their faces as the once still night was disturbed with the gentlest of breezes. It was no more than the slightest touch of breath flowing over them, but the shaman knew even the mightiest of storms began with the softest whisper of the wind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The way of the warrior, chapter 1.  
  
  
Now.  
  
Sam Winchester was sat in a motel room in the middle of nowhere. In itself that was nothing unusual for their way of life, but even by their standards, this town was small. Or as Dean had so colourfully put it, “Ahh, come on, Sam, this is a one-horse town. And it’s got so bad they shot the damn horse. Can we please get back to civilization? You know, small town in the middle of nowhere, in a state I’ve actually heard of.”  
  
Sam had rolled his eyes, and glared at Dean then he’d stood up and gone to make them yet more coffee in their luxurious motel room. What that meant was, for once they didn’t feel the need to have a shower and fumigate their clothes after they left the room. “How many more times, Dean? If you hadn’t gone and got your face plastered on the TV in Milwaukee, then we could be living it up in bumfuck-god-knows-where, instead of where-the-hell-are-we-again?” He slammed the mugs down in front of the kettle, and groaned when he realized they’d used the last of the coffee sachets. Damn, Dean, using three every time.  
  
“Why, Sammy, such vile and uncalled for language! What would agent Hendrickson say?” Sam turned back to see Dean with his hands folded in front of him, and his lips pursed in disapproval, although he couldn’t help the quirk of his lips that threatened to bloom into a smile.  
  
Sam walked back to the table and sat down, “He’d probably just add public profanity to our ever-growing list of charges, and swear it was all down to you and Dad leading my poor Stanford educated ass astray. Listen, why don’t we go out for a beer? I know I’ve had you on lockdown, but for God’s sake, Dean, can you at least try and keep a low profile? Or failing that, how about we get you a disguise?” Sam tried pleading to make Dean see reason; he didn’t want to lose Dean as well as Dad.  
  
Dean grinned in triumph and grabbed his leather jacket from off the back of the chair; he’d been slowly chipping away at Sam’s resolve for the best part of two weeks now. And it looked like all his hard work was finally paying off. Ever since that damn disaster in the bank with the shifter, Sammy had him on lockdown. Dean wasn’t as dumb as Sam thought he was. After Milwaukee, he knew he needed to lie low, but Sam had taken it to the nth degree. He wasn’t allowed to conduct interviews in case he was recognized, and Sam was buying all their food. Which had meant healthy. Sam had this distressing need to try and improve his diet. Dean thought if he saw another salad with green stuff in it, then he’d be well within his rights to tie his gigantic little brother to a chair, and perform as many exorcisms as he could find in Dad’s journal.  
  
It was getting to the point that Dean expected Sam to lock him in the trunk of his baby when they were driving; he’d even offered to wear a ski mask as he drove to prevent him being recognized as a wanted felon. That little joke had caused a total sense of humour failure in Francis over there, and Sam had threatened to make him lie on the back seat with a blanket over his head. It had taken days until Sammy had stopped pitching the bitch fit from hell. But after that Dean had been the model of an older brother, and had retaliated in style.  
  
While he had been cooling his heels, waiting for Sam to come home from food runs, Dean had been engaged in a little research of his own. He’d been looking for a low-key hunt that could keep them both occupied, so far he’d had no luck; they were either too close to where Hendrickson would be looking for them. Or there was the risk the hunt could blow up in their faces, and bring them to the attention of the cops, and ultimately the Feds. Those hunts he’d passed to Bobby to send onto other hunters. Once he’d found a hunt, he’d make sure he left a bookmark that Sam would have to check out and then they would be out of here.  
  
Then to alleviate his growing boredom and frustration, he decided to engage in a little Sammy torture. Well, wasn’t that what little brothers were for? First of all there had been the change of desktop on Sammy’s pride and joy. Personally, Dean thought the ‘busty Asian babes’ pictures had been an improvement. Along with the screen saver he’d spent so long putting together, he’d enjoyed putting his ‘Busty Asian Babes’ calendar to good use. But sadly Sam hadn’t appreciated it; neither did he appreciate what Dean had done to his bookmarks. All of Sam’s carefully saved research websites had mysteriously vanished; now when he clicked on a link he found Dean’s favourite porn sites. Dean grinned at the memory of Sam trying to research hexes and how to break them, only for him to be confronted with some rather creative uses for root vegetables. Sam hadn’t spoken to him for over five hundred miles after that. Dean protested that he’d put all the links back eventually, but he just got Bitch Face Number Fifteen. He had to check in the Impala’s rear view mirror that Sam hadn’t scorched his eyebrows off with that one.  
  
Then there was Dean’s secret weapon, the one he used in case of emergencies. After being confined to motels for the last few weeks, this definitely qualified as that. When Sam had finally relented and removed his head from up his ass, he had allowed Dean out in public once more. That had meant the reference sections of various libraries, but it did allow Dean had put his plan into action. It involved letting Sam get into his research, and then Dean unleashed his masterpiece.  
  
It was his symphony of distraction. It started slowly enough, a few sighs and hitches in the breathing. It moved onto tapping his pen on the table with an ever-changing rhythm, that whenever Sam got used to it, Dean would change the tempo.  
  
He added a movement devoted solely to the art of scratching, and stretching. First he’d scratch his ear, then his nose, before moving gracefully onto his neck, adding a stretch here and there. And when the stretch revealed even a hint of skin from beneath his shirts, Dean would reach down and scratch at his stomach. It drove Sam wild, because he had to start scratching as well in sympathy. Finally it built to a crescendo, with the tuneless humming of various rock classics. Just about recognizable enough to get Sam to try and identify the tune, before Dean switched to another song. Sam had snapped quite spectacularly two towns over, “DEAN!!!! Goddamnit! What the hell are you doing now?” Sam’s cry of frustration had brought the ancient battleaxe of a librarian stomping her way over, reading Sam the riot act for bad behaviour in the library, before throwing them both out. Dean had laughed so hard at that, he thought Sam was going to have a stroke.  
  
Then today, trapped in the motel room, Dean had started all over again. He watched in amusement as Sam’s back had grown progressively straighter with every sigh or hum. Dean thought if Sam had hit the keys on his lap top any harder, they would be off committing credit card fraud to replace the keyboard. Now Sammy had folded like he knew he would, and he’d be free to enjoy the simple pleasures of life - the three B’s - Burgers, Beer and Babes. Normally it would be in another order but he was starving. He stood up and slipped the jacket on. “Sammy, how could you disguise this handsome visage? What! Are you that cruel? You would deprive the lovely ladies of this town of my gorgeousness? Shame on you, Sammy. Come on, the beer’s getting warm, dude.”  
  
Dean had bounced over to the door where he stood waiting like an eager puppy ready for a walk. Sam smiled, shook his head at his idiot of a brother. He grabbed his coat and his lap top; he could look for a job for them, and Dean could unwind a little. A tense and bored Dean was a dangerous Dean; he still had the mental scars to prove it. Although he had to be honest, Dean had showed remarkable patience. He’d only pulled out the big guns of that ridiculous routine of his after three weeks of being locked down. Perhaps he was mellowing in his old age, although he would check his shampoo for Nair just to be safe.  
  
  
  
Sam sat in a spit and sawdust bar with a pool table. Dean had taken one look around, and declared Christmas had arrived early this year. Dean had grabbed them a beer and then he’d sauntered towards the pool table and the locals. He knew Dean was going to earn them some cash while he sat and searched for a low-key hunt out of the way. As far away from Milwaukee as they could possibly get. Alaska and Hawaii would also be considered. Hell, he’d even knock Dean out himself to get him on a plane. As Sam continued to research he kept a watch on his elder brother, it was his job to act as wing man when Dean was in the middle of his one of his pool hustling routines. Sam was there as back-up if things turned nasty. He watched as Dean staggered over to watch the local talent, making ‘drunken’ observations on the player’s abilities.  
  
“Dude, ya holdin’ that cue all wrong. Ya holding it like it’s a baseball bat. No wonder you ain’t potting anything.” Dean was slumped against the wall as he took another drink of beer. He watched as the man trying to take the shot tensed with the back of his neck flushed red. Dean thought ‘yahtzee.’ He’d hooked the guy, now it was time to reel him in. “Shame, I bet ya could be a decent player if you tried.”  
  
The man stood up slowly, he was easily as tall as Sam. But where Sam was muscle, this man was fat; he turned and glowered at Dean. He was trying to use his bulk to intimidate the drunken pretty boy mouthing off at him. Dean wasn’t impressed with the man’s posturing and he silently christened him Pillsbury. He decided to diffuse the situation by ramping up the ‘I’m drunk and harmless’ routine. “Ahh, don’t be like that, man. How ‘bout I give you a few pointers on the game? And because I’m a nice guy, why don’t we make it interesting, say fifty bucks a game? See how quick a study you are.” Dean pushed away from the wall, swaying unsteadily on his feet as he drained his beer in one long swallow.  
  
Sam watched as the player he nicknamed Dough Boy, nodded to his friend who reminded Sam of a weasel. Dough boy grinned at Dean, motioned for a waitress to come over and got two more beers for him and his new pool playing buddy. Dean weaved his way to the rack of pool cues; he sorted through them, just fumbling enough to boost Dough Boy’s confidence even more. Weasel gave his friend a broad smile and a wink. Sam could see that Dean had got both men on the hook; they thought they were going to be fleecing some poor drunken yahoo. Sam shook his head, knowing the only shakedown in this bar tonight would be courtesy of his big brother.  
  
Sam returned to his search for a nice simple hunt that could keep Dean occupied, and them off the F.B.I’s radar. He glanced over to the pool table to check on Dean’s progress, or rather lack of progress. He winced when Dean slipped with the cue and neatly smacked Weasel in the stomach when he’d gotten too close to Dean for comfort. “Shit. Sorry, dude, I didn’t get you in the family jewels, did I? No? Oh good....what am I potting again?” Dean’s words were still slightly slurred, and he turned back to squint at the balls on the table as if he was struggling to focus.  
  
Sam smiled at the display. If Dean ran the hustle as normal, then he’d lose the first two or three games depending on how cocky his opponents were. Then he’d suggest increasing the bet; lose at least another three times, lulling his marks into thinking Dean was easy pickings. Then Dean would miraculously sober up and wipe the floor with whoever was playing him. Then something caught Sam’s eye, it was a possible hunt and he let the research carry him away.  
  
Dean was making his way slowly round the pool table. So far he’d potted the wrong ball, missed the cue ball completely, and nearly disembowelled Pillsbury’s friend. Willard, as Dean affectionately thought of him when he’d gotten into his personal space, lost two games spectacularly, and he made sure he’d come really close to winning the third one. And as far as the Laurel and Hardy were concerned, Dean had been drinking steadily since they’d started playing. Only Dean had been carefully disposing of his beer. In a bar like this, it was simple to leave half-filled glasses amongst the others on the tables, and pick up empty ones. By now he’d only drunk one full glass of beer, while his new friends had downed a pitcher and were working on a second.  
  
Dean rested the cue on his fingers, lined up the shot and promptly struck Pillsbury’s ball instead. “Damn it! These damn cues ain’t straight, and the cushions are out of whack, dude.” Dean staggered over to the two men, and Pillsbury moved back to the table. Pillsbury bent over the table, lined up his shot, potted one ball then took another shot. At that, he managed to cannon the cue into a group of balls and potted two of them. Pillsbury took another shot. This time he missed but Dean had yet to pot one ball. All he had on the table was one ball plus the eight ball.  
  
The man stood up and smirked over at Dean, “Yeah, I’d about say you’re right there, friend. How about we make this worth playin’ for?” With that he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. Dean watched as his gut wobbled at the movement. Pillsbury opened his wallet, looked inside it then he pulled out three hundred-dollar bills.  
  
Dean was leaning against the wall as he watched the man pull the three bills out of his wallet. He was just about to put his hand in his pocket when Willard moved to stand by his friend. “Tell ya what, man. I’m gonna match Jim’s three hundred, and add one more for luck. What do ya say? Winner takes everything on the table....that gonna be too rich for ya, pretty?” Willard sniggered as Dean pulled out his wallet and seemed to be searching through it for money to cover the bet.  
  
Dean calculated there was well over a thousand bucks on the table, including his own stake. Ok, it was time to wind this up. He looked over to where Sam was sitting and could see that Sam was engrossed in his research. He needed to alert his brother he was moving in for the kill, just in case the locals didn’t take too kindly to his sudden improvement in pool playing.  
  
Dean scratched the back of his neck as he continued to go through his wallet, “Dude, I only got five hundred dollars on me.” He raised his voice, the words slurring. He hoped the change of volume would be enough to alert Sam to get moving.  
  
Pillsbury made a show of looking over at Willard, “What do ya think, Ray? Should we let him off with the other two hundred?” Willard was licking his lips at the prospect of five hundred dollars for doing nothing.  
  
“Why not, Jim? I mean, he’s been generous enough already. Well, come on then, pretty. You clear the table and you’re walkin’ out of here a rich man.” Dean rolled his eyes at that. He’d picked up hell of a lot more than this before, but this wasn’t a bad payout for a couple of hours work.  
  
Dean walked unsteadily over to the table and bent over to take the first shot which potted two balls. The cue ball spun back ready for Dean to strike again, he took the next shot with precision. Again potting a ball, he kept a watch on Pillsbury and Willard. Their mood was changing rapidly from smug to worried. As the fifth ball dropped into the pocket they seemed to have realized they might lose their cash.  
  
Dean kept moving, all signs of being unsteady on his feet slowly disappearing. Another shot and another ball potted. Dean stood up and looked over at the two men who seemed to have gone a pale shade of green. He was left with the eight ball. He pointed to the pocket with his cue, “Eight ball, top left pocket....” Dean took the shot and the ball rolled with unerring accuracy into the nominated pocket.  
  
As the eight ball sank into the pocket there was silence from the two men. The waitress who’d been serving them laughed. She winked at Dean as she swayed past once more, “Hey fellas, how does it feel to have the tables turned? You two have fleeced enough guys over the years, good to see there is someone out there who can beat ya.”  
  
Pillsbury glared at the pretty brunette, “Mind ya own business, Cheryl.”  
  
Dean returned the wink with a hint of promise of more to come later in the evening if Cheryl was willing. The look Cheryl shot Dean told him he was definitely not going home tonight. He turned back to the table and went to scoop up the cash.  
  
Pillsbury stood up straighter and slammed his hand down hard on the pile of bills, “We don’t take kindly to cheats here, mister. Now why don’t you just fuck the hell off, while you’re still in one piece?” The man gripped the pool cue tighter, and Willard started to move away from him, hoping to get behind Dean.  
  
Dean assessed the situation. The two men had been drinking and they looked to be out of condition. He scanned the room to see if anyone was taking a more than passing interest in the argument. Judging by the general apathy towards the developing situation from the bar’s other patrons. If this were to turn ugly, Dean didn’t think there would be too many who’d come to the aid of the two men at the table.  
  
Dean gave a slight smile and leaned closer to Pillsbury. He spoke softly so that the men had to move closer to hear. “Listen, friend, I didn’t cheat. I just happen to be a better player than you. Just like I said before, now take your hand off my winnings and I’ll be out of your hair. And tell your girlfriend to stop creeping up behind me. I’m very particular who I let into my personal space, and he ain’t my type.” Dean’s voice had dropped to a quiet growl as he talked.  
  
Pillsbury looked into Dean’s eyes, and suddenly a shiver ran down his spine. There was something about the man in front of him. He’d seemed like a harmless drunk, but seeing the look in his eyes, and the way he held himself...no, he’d cut his losses and walk away. Then he looked over Dean’s shoulder and slowly a smile appeared.  
  
Unknown to Dean, two more men had entered the bar, and they were walking over to the pool table. Pillsbury’s suddenly change of demeanour alerted Dean to the threat behind him. Dean adjusted his stance. He was ready for a fight, but he hoped that Pillsbury would let the money go quietly.  
  
“Hey there, Mike, Dave, looks like we got us a hustler. I was just telling him we don’t welcome his kind here.” Before Pillsbury had chance to utter another word, Dean threw a punch catching him right on the jaw, snapping his head back. Even before the big man hit the floor, Dean was turning away; he suspected the guy had a glass jaw. Pillsbury had struck him as the type to use his height and build to intimidate others, meaning he rarely defended himself.  
  
Willard was about to charge at him with a beer bottle raised above his head, ready to hit Dean. Dean grabbed the raised arm, twisted it, forcing it down and pulling the man towards him. Willard stumbled forward, and Dean drove his knee into the man’s stomach. Willard crumpled into a heap on the floor, gasping for breath. Now Dean had to concentrate on the new threat approaching him.  
  
Sam had been engrossed in his research, but his Deandar had started to ping just in time to resume wingman duty. He’d carefully bookmarked the site he was on and closed down the lap top, quickly put it in his bag and got ready to move. He’d heard the sound of raised voices, and looked over to the pool table. It seemed that Dean was ready to go; he smiled when he saw the exchange between Dean and the waitress, and he suspected that he’d be going back to the motel alone tonight. He wasn’t too concerned about Dough Boy and Weasel; he knew that Dean could look after himself. He watched in amusement as Weasel tried to get behind Dean. Boy, was he in for a surprise! He returned to packing his gear away when he heard the door open. He barely gave the two men who entered a second glance.  
  
Then he heard Pillsbury greet them like old friends, and without hesitation he got to his feet and moved towards where Dean was. He saw Dean drop both Dough Boy and Weasel; he felt relief bloom in his chest. That relief was short lived when he saw the two men move in on Dean. Mike grabbed Dean’s arms and pinned them behind him, and Dave decided to play a drum solo on Dean’s ribs.  
  
Dean grunted as the guy in front of him landed repeated blows to his ribs. He decided enough was enough; he lifted both feet off the floor then drove them right into Dave’s gut. Mike staggered back when Dean’s extra weight pulled him off, and the momentum from Dean kicking his friend drove him back against the pool table. Dean slammed his head back into the Mike’s face. There was a satisfying howl of pain and he let go of Dean’s arms.  
  
Dean rolled off Mike and got ready to deliver a knockout punch to the man on the table. Sam was nearing the table; he saw that Dough Boy was hauling himself to his feet. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and then he picked up a pool cue. Sam realized exactly what he was going to do, “DEAN!” Sam’s cry of warning came a second too late, and Dough boy brought the cue hard across Dean’s unprotected back.  
  
Dean was hurled forward as a line of fire curled across his back. He gasped, unable to draw breath as the blow stunned him, but be still managed to pull his fist back then crashed it into Mike’s jaw, making sure there was one less opponent for him to worry about.  
  
He was about to deal with the man wielding the cue when he heard a very welcome voice. “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you.” Dean turned round and perched on the edge of the pool table, grinning as Sam stood protectively in front of him.  
  
Sam stood impassively in front of Dean, glaring at the three men in front of him. Dough Boy was now looking at the cue as if to say ‘how did that get there’. Weasel seemed to be trying to sidle away, and Dave was still bent double, clutching his gut. Sam took a step forward and the men looked at one another. Dough Boy decided that he was armed and young man in front of him would be no problem.  
  
Dough Boy swung the cue, and Sam stepped forward, caught the cue as it came forward and twisted it free of the man’s grip. He followed it up with another vicious upper cut, and Dough Boy hit the floor once more. He dropped the cue and decided Weasel was next. Sam reached forward, grabbed his shirt and jerked the startled man towards him. Weasel stood on tip toe, looking into a pair of cold unfriendly eyes that promised his life was about to get very uncomfortable. “Now me and my brother are leaving, and he’s taking his winnings with him. Is that gonna be a problem, friend?” Sam’s softly spoken words caused Weasel to shake his head rapidly.  
  
As Dean was watching, he noticed Cheryl standing beside him. She was watching Sam with undisguised awe, and Dean felt a rush of pride - he’d taught Sammy those moves. Now he was easily holding off half the bar with just a set of bangs and a glare. He gave Cheryl a smile; it was dazzling but tinged with regret. “Allow me to introduce my little brother, Sammy. Say hi to Cheryl, Sammy.”  
  
Sam responded without looking over his shoulder, “Hello Cheryl, I hate to break up the party but I think we should be going. Are you ok, Dean? And don’t call me Sammy.” Dean shrugged, and looked at Cheryl as if to say ‘what can you do’?  
  
He slipped off the table and stood up, his breathing hitched when he felt the pull of his muscles where he’d been struck. Cheryl saw Dean flinch; she looked at him with concern. Dean spotted it and winked at her with a cocky smirk on his face. “Your brother always this protective of you? Only I’d like some of my customers to still be standing by the end of the night.” Dean looked over his shoulder to see Sam squaring up to some of the other patrons of the bar.  
  
He rolled his eyes. Damn, they’d better be going before Sasquatch savaged someone. “Come on, Sammy, grab your gear, and we’ll leave these nice people to the rest of their evening.” Dean reached over and picked up his cash, looked at Cheryl and answered her question, “Trust me, this is Sammy being nice. You don’t want to see him when he’s feeling protective. I’d have to give you all my winnings if he decided to go all mama bear. It’s been lovely to meet you, Cheryl. Catch you again someday.” Dean walked towards the waitress. He slipped his arm round her waist and leant in to kiss her and, as they kissed he felt Cheryl melt against him. Dean broke the kiss regretfully, knowing in all probability they wouldn’t pass this way again.  
  
Dean reached out and picked up his leather jacket off the back of the chair where he’d left it. He felt a looming presence behind him, “Ok then, Francis, I’m coming. Well, gentlemen, it’s been interesting. I hope we can do it again sometime.” With that, Dean slipped the jacket over his body, covering the pain from his rapidly forming bruises with a grin. The two Winchesters looked at the four men glaring at them, turned and walked out of the bar.  
  
As they walked Sam muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “Ok, how bad, and none of that ‘I’m fine’ crap. We talking cracked ribs or what?” Sam was fighting the urge to place his hand in the middle of Dean’s back to usher him out of the bar.  
  
Dean sighed carefully so he didn’t ruin the effect by flinching when he drew a deep breath. “Chill, Sammy, it’s just bruises. By the way, are we all packed?” Dean asked nonchalantly as they reached the door.  
  
Sam pushed the door open, “You know we’re packed. Why? You think we might get a visit from the local welcome committee back there?” Sam moved them a little quicker towards the Impala at the thought that they might be followed.  
  
Dean opened the driver’s door and got in. He was glad of the darkness as it covered the pain that crossed his features. Sam got in beside him and closed the passenger door. “Oh hell, yeah, we’re gonna get a visit. I recognized Dave as I booted him in the guts. He works at the motel. Tell me we got another gig? Preferably a few miles away from here.” Dean started the engine and they drove off.  
  
Sam nodded, “Look, let’s get our stuff and I’ll fill you in on the road. Something tells me that little visit could get ugly.” Dean nodded in agreement and they drove in silence.  
  
Back at the motel they cleared their room in less than five minutes. One quick check-out and they were back on the road. Dean shifted in the driver’s seat to try and ease the pressure on his back where that bastard Pillsbury had smacked him with the pool cue. It was start to feel like he was resting against hot broken glass. He gritted his teeth, and kept putting miles between them and his pool playing buddies.  
  
Dean decided to take his mind off his aches and pains and see what Sammy had found for them to hunt. “Well, come on then, boy wonder, my amazing geek side kick. You said we had a job. Where are we going?”  
  
Sam turned to speak to Dean. He noticed the constant shifting, and knew that Dean was stiffening up. Damn stubborn idiot. Most people would be a whimpering mess on the floor but not Dean. This was the man who once dismissed a gash across his hand that needed over ten stitches as a ‘paper cut’. Perhaps the next time they stopped for gas, he could convince Dean to hand over the keys and let him drive. Failing that, he’d drug his coffee. It wouldn’t be first time he’d resorted to dirty tricks to get Dean to take it easy.  
  
That was in the future. For now he’d tell Dean about their next gig, “Ok, it looks like we have a multiple haunting that centres on a construction site. Machinery breaking down, items going missing, general mayhem. Enough to reach the local papers.”  
  
Dean frowned, “All of that could be down to the local teens messing around, petty vandalism. What makes you think it’s our kind of gig, Sam?”  
  
Sam grinned, knowing he’d got Dean’s interest, “I agree. It sounds like the usual, kids breaking in and messing around. But the work force swear there are cold spots all over the site, and they have reports of figures being seen mysteriously appearing then vanishing when anyone approaches them. Then of course, there are the descriptions of the apparitions.” Sam fell silent, waiting for Dean’s curiosity to get the better of him.  
  
He didn’t have to wait long. Dean gripped the wheel tighter, “Come on, Sammy, or should I say Velma, what are the workers seeing? Oh, please tell me we’re going to Vegas and they’re the spirits of show girls in their costumes.”  
  
Sam laughed; he knew Dean would love this with his obsession with the Old West, “Well, every eyewitness says the same thing. Just before something breaks or goes missing, they see a Native American. Or as one very UN PC construction worker put it - ‘I’m telling ya, goddamn Geronimo tried to drop a pallet of bricks on my head’.”  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The way of the warrior, chapter 2.

 

“You’re shitting me, right? Actual Red Indians, Dances with Wolves territory! Man, that’s almost as good as Las Vegas show girls.” Dean grinned, smacked the steering wheel in joy, ignoring the twinges of pain his battered body sent through him. “Actually, Dean, I believe they prefer the term The People, alternatively address them by their tribal names, like Cherokee, or Sioux. Please, Dean, try not to offend everyone you meet.” Sam sat in what Dean liked to think of as his teacher pose. Straight backed and looking like Miss Beckerman did, when she smelt that week-old fish he’d hidden in the Chem. Lab.

“Sam, you know me, I’m the soul of tact and discretion. By the way where the hell am I going? I don’t mind driving aimlessly but it would be nice to know I’m at least going in the right direction.” Dean asked sweetly, in response to Sam looking at him sourly. Dean enjoyed riling his little brother, and he knew referring to Native Americans as Red Indians would do the trick. It was good to give the kid something to take his mind off the whole ‘going dark side’ thing.

They were still trying to regroup after the whole Ava and Gordon fiasco when Milwaukee went down. Now they were dodging the Feds, as well as demons looking for ‘special kids’. Dean just wanted the whole roller coaster to slow down, and just let him catch his breath. But equally he needed to be hunting, taking out as many evil sons of bitches as he could. Now Sam had found them a gig, and he was holding out on him, he needed hear the details, have some idea just what they were walking into.

Sam rolled his shoulders to try and release the tension there, Dean could drive him nuts but he was right. He’d provided him with very little information about the hunt, now it was time to rectify the situation. “Ok, sorry about that, Dean, we’re heading for a town called Creek Ridge, New Mexico. It’s a small town and forms part of an unusual Reservation. The Reservation houses not just one tribe but several tribes amalgamated together. From newspaper reports on the net, the trouble began when the new Casino building project began to take shape.” Sam paused to collect his thoughts.

“Shame the place wasn’t called Rock Ridge...but dude, New Mexico? Just how far are you trying to get us from Milwaukee? What, no hunts in Alaska? I would’ve preferred Hawaii. But beggars can’t be choosers and besides I don’t do shorts. A casino? So we are back to show girls? Well, don’t leave me in suspense, Sam. What’s been happening that’s got everyone’s panties in a bunch?” Dean shifted again, and this time he couldn’t hide the grimace of pain that crossed his face.

Sam gritted his teeth. Right, there was no way he was going to let that stubborn ass of a brother keep on driving. Even if he had to pull a gun on him, to get him to pull over. He glanced over at his brother and his heart sank. Dean was wearing his ‘I’ll only stop driving if I’m bleeding to death, and that’s only so I don’t get blood on the upholstery’ expression. Ok, so it looked liked this was going to be a waiting game; well, he had infinite amounts of patience. If he could wear down the great John Winchester, then Dean should be easy in comparison.

Sam slid down the seat and relaxed his body, continuing his narrative. “At first it was small things, like I said, tools being moved or just disappearing. Then it got gradually worse, larger items were being sabotaged, and then the accidents started.”

Dean was just trying to ease his now stiffening muscles when Sam said that, “Accidents? Anybody get hurt and if so how bad?” Dean was concentrating fully on what his brother was telling him. Missing tools were one thing but when ghosts turned violent, it was going to get ugly and real fast.

“So far it’s been cuts and bruises, but the incident that brought the reporters in was when a cement truck crashed through the site onto the road.” Sam watched Dean process the information.

“Hang on. Are you telling me Sitting Bull has learned to drive, and is trying to take out the white men by playing Grand Theft Auto?” Dean’s tone was incredulous at the thought of a ghost driving.

Sam laughed, “Sorry, nothing as exotic as that. The truck was parked on an incline, and the brakes failed. The truck was checked over and they couldn’t find any mechanical faults. Plus all the witnesses swear no one was near the truck when it started to move.

The ghost stories started after that. One of the construction workers told someone in a bar about the mysterious figures that were being seen all over the site. And word just spread until it reached the local newspaper. They sent a reporter down, and by the time they reported it, it did sound like Custer’s last stand.”

Dean’s mind was racing; there was one other avenue to explore before he decided it was a real hunt and not just human involvement. “Sam, has there been any opposition to the casino? You know, protesters chaining themselves to pick axes and the like? Singing ‘We shall overcome’?” Dean had listened to the story, and was sure it was more likely a human hand that released the brake rather than a ghostly one.

“Nice catch, Sherlock. Yes, there has been opposition to the construction, some very noisy protests. But for the most they have been peaceful. And to be honest with you, Dean, I’m like you more inclined to believe it was one of the protesters who let the brake off then panicked when the truck caused havoc. Then they saw the stories of ghosts on site as a chance to cover their ass. Of course both sides are now blaming each other for what’s happening..... “

Dean interrupted Sam, “Whoa there, Sam! Before I drive half way across the damn country, are you telling me this might just be an environmental tree-hugging loon behind all of this?” Dean’s voice rose in pitch.

“Relax, big brother. That’s what I thought at first, but if you dig further into the town’s history that’s where it does get interesting.”

“It was the sight of a battle between the tribes and the cavalry, and right on the edge of the casino complex, there is a box canyon that the local people call the Valley of Tears. It seems it could be a burial site, and as the construction has gotten closer.....” Sam’s voice faded and Dean continued.

“As the building gets closer the ghosts are getting angrier. Now I see what you’re getting at, it ain’t kids or even local protest groups. If the construction has disturbed the burial ground, dude, this could get real nasty. Remember when dad, Caleb and Bobby dealt with something similar?” Both boys fell silent as they recalled the aftermath of that particular hunt - Caleb in traction, Bobby in stitches and Dad in a filthy mood because the ghosts had thrown the hunters off their land.

Sam ran his fingers nervously through his hair, “Well, here’s hoping it doesn’t end up like that. I think I was scarred for life after that.” He was trying desperately not to smile, as he recalled Bobby sitting in his hospital bed, telling dad with a straight face what had to be done.

Dean was also trying not to grin in the end; he broke and started to laugh, “Oh god, Sammy, I can see it now - Dad dancing round that damn fire, yowling his heart out with his ass hanging out of that breech clout. Doing that appeasement ritual. I thought you were going to have heart failure when you saw him.”

Sam finally joined in the laughter, “Shit, I know, Dean, but the best part was I asked Bobby about the ritual he got Dad to do. Bobby told me all Dad had to do was sit down in front of a fire and chant the words, and put the offerings in the fire. That would have been enough to appease the spirits if the words had been offered with purity of heart. I did have strong words with Bobby about his lack of respect for the traditions of the tribe.”

Dean grin grew wider, “Dude, Dad was lucky Bobby didn’t get him to do it naked. After all if Dad hadn’t been so stubborn about how to run the hunt, Bobby would never have got that ghost arrow in the ass. It does strange things to a man’s dignity having a pretty female doctor put stitches there. All the while trying to say it was a hunting accident. I still don’t know how I managed to film it for him. Trust me when I tell you, never piss off Bobby Singer, he’ll always get you back.” With that the Impala was filled with laughter, after a few minutes the laughter stopped. Dean sobered and asked the question that had been playing on his mind.

“Sam, you don’t think it’s going to be like that? Man, you know how hard it can be to put that many ghosts to rest. The remains will be hard to salt and burn, and depending on which tribe we are dealing with, we have to use the right ritual. From what you’re saying, that many different tribes in one place, we’re gonna need help to sort it all out.”

Sam nodded in agreement, “I think we should take a look around and assess the situation, hopefully it’s just the one ghost or a couple. It could be they are ghosts off the actual battlefield, rather than the burial ground. But if it is the burial ground, then we call Bobby and whoever else we can think of. I think we got enough problems, without trying to deal with a tribe of angry Native American spirits enraged because their sacred ground has been disturbed, and somebody is building a damn casino over it.” Sam was concerned at the prospect of that.

“I hear ya, Sam; I think we should stock up on salt rounds and dust off the suits. Then have a chat with the locals to see how the land lies. You never know, it might still just be a matter of protesters versus the construction people. Ok, we should be there in around two days with me driving. If you drive, Grandma, it will take a week. Why don’t you get some shut eye? And if you ask nicely I might let you drive my baby for a little while.” Dean reached out and turned the radio on softly, ignoring the look Sam was giving him. “Sam, if you keep that up you’ll give your eyeballs a hernia. It’s just a few bruises, dude. We’ve both had worse, now try and reign in the desire to wrap me in cotton wool. I know I’m precious but I get hives from that stuff....” Dean grinned as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean, the only thing precious about you is your ego and Dean, come on, man, Dough Boy really swung that cue. I just want to make sure you’re alright.” Sam begged and started to pull out the big guns - the puppy dog eyes were working overtime. He knew although Dean wasn’t looking directly at him, if he aimed it right, it usually bore into Dean until he caved. They sat in silence with music playing in the background, and after a couple of miles Dean began to wilt under the look. Then he rolled his shoulders and neck, hissing as his bruised muscles howled in protest.

Dean gripped the wheel harder; there was no way he was caving to Sam’s dirty tactics. He could feel Sam staring at him, and he knew that with every mile, his eyes were growing larger and more forlorn. Finally he cracked, “Ok, you win. How about the next rest break we swap places? Now for Pete’s sake, Sam, get some shut eye before your eyes get so big they jolt out of their sockets when I go over a pot hole.” Dean flicked a glance over at Sam who was grinning triumphantly then Sam slowly slid even lower, and rested his head against the window. He was gently rocked to sleep by the familiar feel of the Impala gliding over asphalt, and the soothing lullaby of Metallica and Dean’s slightly off-key singing. 

Sam jerked awake, blinking in the sunlight. What the ....? Damn Dean, he thought. There was no way this was the first rest stop. Sam had been woken by the Impala’s door being closed softly. He watched as Dean walked towards the gas tank. He could see that Dean was stiff from sitting in one position for so long by the way he moved. Dean’s movement lacked its usual grace, his gait was stiff and he was slightly hunched over. He looked at his watch. Crap! It was after eleven o’clock. Dean had been driving all night and most of the morning.

Sam rubbed at his eyes, and yawned, watching through the mirror as Dean leaned against the car. He was looking tired, and Sam knew that it wasn’t just down to driving all night after getting the crap kicked out of him. Dean was exhausted; his soul was as bruised and battered as his body was. The loss of Dad, and that damn fucking promise he’d dumped on Dean, meant his brother was slowly drowning before him. And there was nothing he could do. In fact he was just adding to Dean’s problems with his being one of the ‘special kids’. He knew Dean was watching him all the time now, partly checking to see if he’d go dark side. But mostly Dean was watching him to protect him from whatever might come after him. Sam saw Dean’s shoulders were slumped and he rubbed his hand down his face. Sam caught the slight wince and knew that driving all night had just aggravated his injuries.

Dean finished filling the tank, and went to pay for the gas. He stopped and stretched. Sam caught the way Dean flinched when his back spasmed at the height of the stretch. He’d also caught a flash of bruised skin when Dean’s jacket and shirts rode up slightly. He couldn’t place how that one happened, then he remembered when he lost sight of Dean in the fight last night. Mike must’ve punched Dean in the kidneys, allowing Mike to grab his older brother’s arms. He’d wondered how he got the drop on Dean. Sam’s eyes narrowed. That did it! Dean was riding shotgun whether the stubborn idiot wanted to or not. He quickly settled down again, knowing that Dean would be checking he was still safely asleep.

Dean made his way slowly to the garage to pay; this was the second time they’d stopped. He’d been glad that Sam had stayed asleep, the kid really needed to get some rest. The whole spectre of the ‘special kid’ thing was getting to Sam. He was starting at shadows and his brooding had reached epic proportions. If he kept it up Dean was going to suggest he’d have to use Botox just keep the furrows in his forehead to a minimum. He knew Sam would go ballistic, but hell, it might even make him smile. God, he wished Dad was here.

Right about now he’d take just being able to leave pleading messages on his damn phone. Even if dad never answered, Dean knew he’d listen to his words. But now he was completely alone, with no idea how to deal with what was happening. So he resorted to what he always did - push forward, hunt every evil son of a bitch he could find and protect Sam, just not necessarily in that order. He pushed open the door and a bored cashier looked up. He dismissed Dean with a cursory glance, and went back to his graphic novel.

Dean moved towards the counter, poured himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a family-sized pack of peanut M & M’s. Just as he went to pay he picked up a granola bar for Sam on a whim. Well, there had to be fruit or some other healthy crap in there to keep Sam happy. Thinking of Sam...Dean turned and looked out of the window. He could see Sam still out cold in the passenger seat, he smiled and paid. The guy barely looked up as Dean paid with his credit card; Dean’s eyebrows rose slightly. He thought having someone called Sirius Black pay for over thirty dollars of gas, coffee and confectionery, along with the latest edition of Busty Asian Babes that seemed to have mysteriously attached itself to his hand as he passed, would have at least caused a comment. The man swiped the card and handed it back. Dean smiled brightly at him, just hoping for a reaction to the name but there was nothing. Dean picked up his purchases slightly disgruntled. Hell, he couldn’t even brag to Sammy about it without giving away his knowledge of Harry Potter, and he’d rather eat one of Sam’s healthy salads than admit to liking the films.

Dean took a swig of coffee as he walked out; he was just juggling his purchases as he walked to the car when he stopped. Leaning against the driver’s door with his hand held out and a determined look on his face was Sam. Dean was shocked. How the hell had Sam managed that? He could’ve sworn he was out cold. Dean gave his little brother a cocky grin and innocently placed the granola bar in his hand. “Morning, sunshine, we ready to go? Or do you need a bathroom break?” Dean tried to get around the Great Wall of Sam.

Sam’s fingers curled round the bar and he narrowed his eyes. Dean licked his lips and judged the mood then meekly handed over the keys. Sam stood up straighter; a look of worry crossed his face at Dean’s sudden surrendering of the Impala’s keys. Sam pushed himself away from the car, his hand outstretched towards Dean.

“Relax, Sam, I’m not about to die on you. I’m just tired. Here, want a cup of coffee? Sorry, it’s black and not one of those fancy crappy latte things you call coffee. I might get me some sleep...try and drive above thirty miles an hour, dude. We want to get there before the ghosts get bored and move on.” Sam watched as Dean made his way round the front of the Impala. He sighed and took a drink of coffee; he pulled a face at the bitter black brew. He didn’t mind black coffee, but this stuff should carry a health warning. They got in the car and Sam put the key in the ignition.

“I thought we agreed that you’d wake me at the first stop. By the look of the time you had to have stopped at least twice, Dean. Come on, man, you need to get some rest. Those guys at the bar last night weren’t exactly gentle with you.” Sam started the engine and drove off, watching with concern as Dean tried to get comfortable, turning first one way then the other. Finally Dean seemed to settle and he sat with his head back, his eyes closed and a fine line appeared between his eyebrows. That told Sam louder than any words that his back and ribs were still bothering him.

“I know I’m handsome, Sammy, but can you at least keep one eye on the road? I’d like to get to New Mexico in one piece. I tell you what. I’ll take the next shift in a couple of hours so you can get some more beauty sleep. After all, man, we both know who got the looks in the family.” Dean smiled as he spoke never opening his eyes. He was beat but he hated to admit that Sam was right; the guys in the bar had done quite a number on him. His ribs ached and when he breathed too deeply, they burned and throbbed. And his back was one continuous burn, from where the cue had connected and the punch to the kidneys...God, he’d give anything to be able to lie down about now. But there was a hunt waiting for them and so it was time to suck it up and push forward. Dad would never have let a few bruises slow him down. Dean did his best to grab some sleep as they drove. Like Sam, the familiar movement of the Impala helped to lull him to sleep.

The next thing Dean knew was the door was opening and a hand rested on his shoulder. Before he could do damage to the owner of the hand Sam’s voice stopped him. “Come on, Dean, I’m beat. We’re stopping for the night.” Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. Shit! Surely he hadn’t been asleep that long, had he? He looked round and blinked. It was still light. What the fuck! He looked up sharply at Sam, a stubborn look on his face.

Sam blithely ignored the dirty look Dean was shooting him, “Come on, sleeping beauty, we’ve driven far enough today, and besides, I want to check out your back.” Sam stood back as he watched his grumbling big brother haul himself painfully out of the car. Dean stood slowly and glared mutinously at his brother but Sam just turned and walked away. He threw the comment over his shoulder that he knew Dean would have to obey, “Anyway, if you’re not at your best, how are you gonna look out for me?”

Sam smirked when he saw the scowl deepen on Dean’s face. He walked into the motel room, dropped his bag on the bed closest to the door and went into the bathroom. While he was in there he heard the door close. He finished, washed his hands and stepped into the room. The first thing he noticed was his bag had magically transported itself to the bed furthest from the door, and Dean was slowly peeling off his leather jacket.

Sam knew better than to try and help, these were only bruises and Dean would not thank him for mother henning him. Then Dean opened his duffle and pulled out some sweats and a T-shirt then moved towards the bathroom. As he reached the door he spoke to Sam, “Well, as it seems we have stopped for the night, see if you can rustle up some food for us, oh great provider. By the way, make mine extra pepperoni, thanks.” Sam picked up the Impala keys and went on the most important of hunts. The hunt for a decent enough pizza to keep Dean happy.

Dean belched loudly and sighed in contentment. The remains of two family-sized meat feast pizzas sat on his bed. He and Sam had sat and demolished them after he had returned with them. Now pleasantly full, he was prepared to forgive Sam for stopping so early, plus lying on the motel bed was much better than the hard seats of the Impala, although he’d never admit it to Sam. Dean lay with his eyes closed, feeling the bed dip as Sam got up and cleared the pizza boxes off the bed.

He followed Sam as he moved round the room, heard Sam sit down again and the familiar sound of the lap top being booted up. As usual Sam was going through the research, checking what facts they could. Looking into the background of the town, Dean knew that Sam would be researching the Casino, the construction work and any info on the protesters out there. He knew that because that’s exactly what he’d do. Dean was good at research. Hell, he’d managed fine when Sam was at Stanford. But for the most part these days it was Sammy’s department. It helped to take the kid’s mind off things like Jess, Dad and the destiny old yellow eyes had planned for him. Then he tried to turn onto his side and his breathing hitched as his ribs protested at being disturbed from their well-earned rest.

Dean cursed softly under his breath. He’d hoped the hot shower would have eased his aches and pains, but all it had done was mask the problem. Now by moving, the various bruises were making themselves known again. After his shower Dean had made the short walk to his bed carefully, relieved that Sam wasn’t there to see his slow progress across the room. He’d been hurt plenty of times and much worse than this, but bruised ribs were never fun, breathing was a pain in the ass. Add in the fact that Pillsbury had used him for batting practice, and yeah, he was in for a fun week or two.

While Dean had been trying to roll over silently and failing, Sam had picked up on his brother’s discomfort; he stood up slowly and walked out of the room. It was a testament to how bad Dean felt that he hadn’t noticed him slipping out the door. Sam walked quickly to the ice machine in the corner of the parking lot. He rapidly filled an ice bucket and returned to the room. He stepped inside to find Dean sitting up, looking as if he was getting ready to find him.

Sam shook his head ruefully - so much for stealth. He closed the door behind him and walked over to his bed, he could feel Dean’s eyes following him. He opened his bag and searched it, grinning in triumph when his fingers brushed over what he was searching for. Sam pulled some freezer bags out and started to fill them with ice. Then Sam moved into the bathroom, and picked up some threadbare towels. He’d just have to ask housekeeping for some more. He returned to Dean’s bed and wrapped the ice bags in the material. He drew in a breath and got ready to battle his stubborn ass brother.

“What are you going to do with those, Sam?” Dean growled softly at him, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

Sam stood, tossing one of the bags up in the air, “Well, I was thinking of practicing my juggling. What do you think I’m going to do with them, big brother?” As he spoke Sam approached the bed, a determined glint in his eye. Dean watched him coming towards him; he was battling between telling Sam exactly where he could shove the ice packs, and wanting them on his body to ease the pain.

Sam took the decision out of his hands, “Lie down, Dean and let me take a look, and if you’re a good boy I’ll tell you what I’ve found out about our haunting.” Dean glared up at him, but did as he was told. He slowly pulled his T-Shirt up and Sam winced at the sight before him. Dean’s ribs were turning a deep mottled purple. Sam reached out and gently pressed against the ribs, causing Dean to arch up and hiss.

“Jesus, Sammy. Look, they’re just bruised. They ain’t even cracked, and I should know what broken ribs feel like.” Sam looked sadly at Dean’s memories of other hunts flickering through his mind; times when he’d helped a pale, sweating tight-lipped Dean back to other motel rooms, terrified that he was going to puncture a lung with a piece of jagged bone. No, he knew what cracked and broken ribs felt like, he‘d felt them on Dean more often than he liked.

Sam knew Dean didn’t need him getting all dewy-eyed about this. He picked up the first ice pack and, with a smile, deposited it right on Dean’s ribs, “Holy shit, Sammy! Warn a guy before you start freezing him to death, will ya?” His arm curled protectively round his ribs over the bag. Dean shivered slightly at the cold, but he relaxed as the cool eased some of the ache.

“Come on, roll towards me. I need to see how bad your back is.” Sam moved round the bed as Dean rolled slowly onto his side; he couldn’t help but wince at the livid weal that ran the width of his back. Sam ran his fingers gently across the bruise, feeling heat beneath his fingers. He let his gaze drop to the fist-sized mark over Dean’s kidneys. Without a word Sam placed the other two ice packs against the heated skin. He rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder and slowly eased the T-Shirt back down; he felt anger well up inside him. Shit, it was bad enough patching Dean up after he’d been on a hunt, but Sam really hated it when the cause had been human assholes.

Dean was curled up on his side, quivering as the ice cooled his body, and he knew what Sam was thinking. Hell, Sam had been radiating wave after wave of guilt since last night. If Dean could harness it, he could probably solve the world’s energy problems. Sam took his job as wing man seriously. But as far as he was concerned this kind of thing couldn’t be helped. When you hustled pool this was an occupational hazard. But right now, he needed to take Samantha’s mind off this before he tucked him up in bed and started reading him a bed-time story.

“Come on, Sam. It ain’t that bad, and I know the drill. No blood when I pee and honest, my ribs are just bruised. Come on, dude, what else have you found out? Am I gonna have to break out the chaps and circle the wagons or what?” From behind him he heard a laugh and Dean started to relax. He saw Sam walk into view and dropped down onto his own bed. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head at his brother’s highly politically incorrect comments, Dean returned the grin. He’d say anything to make Sam smile these days, and if it meant giving Sam the image of him driving the Impala dressed like Clint Eastwood, then he was fine with that.

Sam rested his arms on his knees and started to talk, “Ok then, for a start the actual Casino is being built five miles out of town, and is part of a large hotel complex. As I said, everything was going fine until the construction work got closer to the burial ground. The first sighting was reported by a George Haynes, the site foreman.”

Dean interrupted, “George Haynes? That doesn’t sound very Native American. What? Don’t they employ the locals on this?” Dean shifted slightly and then relaxed again as the ice continued to do its work.

“Dean, it might come as a surprise but not everyone is called Running Bear, but as it happens you’re right. George is from out of state and is considered to be an upstanding citizen. That is to say, no one has found a hip flask full of booze on him. As for the work force...well, according to the local papers and a little checking into the department of works, most of the crew come from the town and the surrounding ones. The casino is creating a lot of jobs in the community.”

“So, why the protests? I’d have thought anything that creates jobs would be welcome.” Dean asked.

“From what I’ve read, it’s not so much the Casino that’s the problem; it’s more of a cultural concern. And that’s where the opposition comes in.” Sam carried on, watching as Dean absorbed the information.

“The two main players in this are Amber Moon Haven who is leading the protests, saying the Casino will erode the cultural heritage of the local people. Stating their community is unique as it is made up of Creek, Cherokee, Choctaw and Seminole. That the casino will disturb that balance, and as such, is a threat to their way of life.”

Sam heard a snort from the other bed and saw Dean roll his eyes, “Great! Not only a tree hugger, but a tree hugger who can complain in about five languages, I bet. Well, that’s the ‘against’. Who is the ‘for’?”

“That would be Daryl...” Sam looked slightly embarrassed. After what he’d said to Dean about names he knew Dean would love this. He gritted his teeth and continued. “Daryl Gray Bear is the man behind the Casino, and he owns the construction company building it. He argues the complex will bring in much needed revenue, and promises to put money into the local schools and clinics.” Sam finally looked at Dean who was grinning wickedly at him.

“So they’re not all called Running Bear? Ahh well, this guy sounds fairly smooth. Is he on the up? Or are we talking a snake oil salesman?” Dean waited for Sam’s response.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, “From what I’ve read on the net, from various newspaper sites, Daryl lies somewhere between the two. But he really believes in this project, and according to sources on site, he is on the verge of declaring war on the protesters. Because he says they made up the ghosts to slow the construction down.”

“Great! By the sound of it, not only do we have ghosts re-enacting the battle of Little Big Horn, but it sounds like Amber and Daryl are about to throw down. There’s gonna be civilians caught in the middle of this. So then, Sammy, this was gonna be an easy hunt to ease us back into the game, right?” Dean laughed as Sam gave a rueful smile.

Sam continued to tell Dean about the history of the project. He noticed that Dean’s eyes were growing heavy and he continued to talk, letting his voice ease Dean into a much needed rest. Finally Sam could see that Dean had drifted off to sleep so he stood up slowly and moved towards him. He slowly removed the half-melted bags of ice from beneath his T-Shirt, then Sam lifted Dean’s arm away from his ribs and retrieved the final bag. He took them into the bathroom and poured away the contents and Sam got ready for bed himself. He turned out the bathroom light and walked over to his bed; before he climbed in he took one final look at his brother. The line between his eyebrows had smoothed out a little and he seemed to be resting peacefully. He’d have to watch Dean closely for the next few days, to make sure he didn’t aggravate his injuries too much. He shook his head he knew he stood more chance of getting Dean to sit and talk about his emotions, now there was a hunt for them.

Sam reached out and pulled the comforter up higher to keep Dean warm, and then he turned and moved to his own bed. Throwing back the bed clothes he got in and lay down. Sam looked up at the ceiling and whispered a prayer that this was going to be an easy hunt. A simple haunting to take Dean’s and his mind off the shadows that chased them relentlessly. Sam’s own eyelids grew heavy, and slowly he let himself relax and followed his brother to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The way of the warrior, chapter 3.  
  
  
  
  
Dean woke slowly and groaned as he felt the pull of the bruises that covered his body. Fuck! He hated it when Sam was right about him being hurt; speaking of Sam he looked round the room, there was no sign of his little brother. Dean pushed himself up in bed and threw back the covers; he got up slowly, wincing as his stiffened body protested at being forced to a vertical position. Dean walked towards the bathroom, eager to have a shower and get dressed before his brother returned with breakfast hopefully, and then they were going to hit the road. When Sam got back to the room he was hoping to find Dean still asleep in bed, but instead he was greeted by his brother sitting at the table fully dressed, and sharpening the knife he kept beneath his pillow. “Morning there, Sammy. Oh good, breakfast! I’m starving. Hope you’re in the mood for a little driving today, we got lost time to make up for. And ya better have brought something decent, and not oatmeal or that kind of crap.”  
  
Sam put the bag down in front of Dean, “Don’t worry, Dean, I got your usual heart attack in a bun, and a large black coffee.” Sam pulled out a chair and sat down.  
  
Dean opened the bag and just before he tucked into the breakfast of kings, he looked over at his brother sat there without anything to eat. “Relax! I grabbed something to eat while I was out. I knew you’d want to be on the road as soon as possible. I filled the Impala with gas, and all we have to do is pack the car and we can be out of here.” Sam sat back and watched as Dean inhaled his food. He hadn’t been lying; he’d eaten earlier. He knew that as soon as Dean was awake, they would be on the move.  
  
That’s all Dean did these days was move forward, it was as if he was scared to stay still. He was trying to outrun whatever destiny was waiting for Sam, and Sam knew that sooner or later they would have to stand and face what was coming. But for now he’d keep moving with Dean, and keep hunting as they moved.  
  
Dean licked his lips as he gathered together the remnants of his feast and crumpled the bag into a ball, then lobbed it with precision into the trash can. He stood up and drained the rest of the coffee, looking down at his seated brother, “Well, come on, Sam, we’re burning daylight here. If you’re nice to me I might let you drive a little later.” As he spoke he was putting on his jacket, his face contorting slightly when his jacket landed against the bruises on his back.  
  
Sam frowned when he saw that. Whether Dean liked it or not he’d be doing some of the driving today. He stood up and followed his brother out of the room. Soon they were back on the road with Dean playing Led Zeppelin, his fingers beating out the rhythm as they drove.  
  
The first time they stopped, there was a short but impressive argument over who was going to drive. Sam won that one by snatching the keys and then holding them above his head. Dean had stood there with a pout on his face, finally conceding defeat. He muttered something about freakish little brothers out-growing devilishly handsome older brothers, and their freakishly long arms.  
  
He stalked round to the passenger side and got in the car. As they drove Dean tried to relax but again his battered body wasn’t allowing him to rest. The Impala glided over the asphalt and the brothers drove in silence. Instead Dean let his mind wander to the hunt they were driving towards. It was an unusual haunting. They had faced multiple ghosts a couple of times, and it always got pretty hairy. Normally ghosts didn’t tag team, but if this really was a disturbed burial ground then the spirits would be angry and desperate to protect their ‘home’. Add in the battle raging between the construction and the protesters, and this had all the makings of a Winchester disaster. Dean was determined that wasn’t going to happen; if they were lucky it was a couple of the protesters turning up, dressed as ghosts to scare people off the site. Dean was starting to hope that this was going to turn out to be an unaired Scooby-Doo episode, because, if not, then this hunt could go real bad and fast. But if it meant that Sam’s mind was off the whole destiny thing, then he was prepared to watch his back and protect his little brother.  
  
With that settled in his mind Dean tried once more to go to sleep, and this time he was successful. Dean jerked awake, realizing that they had stopped. He grinned - this was his chance to take over. He looked up to see where Sam was. He could see that Sam was paying for gas, and like he did yesterday, Sam was getting snacks for the journey. Carefully Dean slid over to the driver’s seat, and waited for Sam to get back to the car.  
  
Sam walked back to the Impala and opened the driver’s door, he’d left Dean asleep. He’d drive for a little while longer; he knew that sitting in the passenger seat wasn’t ideal. But it was better for Dean than have him driving for twelve hours straight. Or some other stupid stunt, to prove he was ‘M’fine, Sammy’. Sam jerked back in shock when he saw Dean, sitting in the driver’s seat with his hand held out for the key to the Impala.  
  
“Damnit, Dean, are you tryin’ to give me heart failure? Come on. Let me drive a little longer. You need to get some rest.” Dean just raised his eyebrow and Sam knew he was going to lose this argument; he handed the keys over and walked round the front of the car. He got in and sat down then tried one more time, “Come on, man, it won’t hurt you not to drive. I can get us there by tomorrow. Besides, I know it can get uncomfortable scrunched up behind the wheel.”  
  
Dean looked over at his brother, who was now kicking himself for daring to suggest that Dean’s baby was anything less than five-star luxurious comfort. Dean reached out and patted the dashboard gently, “There, there, sweetheart, Sam didn’t mean it. Sammy, I should make you apologize to my girl for insulting her like that. If you’re really nice to me, I might let you drive in a couple of months or so. Ok, then, where are we, Sam? And how far out of Creek Ridge are we?” Dean grinned as Sam huffed. Sam furnished him with the information he needed. Sam was right; they wouldn’t make the town until tomorrow, but he could still get them pretty close. Dean put his foot down and the Impala sped forward.  
  
Sam sat, watching the world fly by and began to relax. Despite all the mocking, this was where he felt safest, this was the closest thing to a home he’d ever had. These four wheels and the man driving it was what Sam thought of whenever he’d been asked about his home at Stanford. Eased by the familiar comfort of the seat and the knowledge that Dean was behind the wheel, all was right with his world. Sam allowed himself to be gently rocked to sleep.  
  
“Sam, hey, Sammy. Come on, sleeping beauty, time to get up, and go to bed. Can you check us in man, I’m done?” Sam sat up quickly, looking round. It was dark and they were sat in a motel car park. He glared at Dean who gave him an innocent smile. Sam got out of the car muttering about stubborn assed idiot brothers, and checked them in.  
  
When they got to the room, Sam went in first. Dean followed slowly. Sam watched him as he moved stiffly. It was pointless starting the same argument; instead he decided to go over their plan of attack for the hunt. “When will we hit the town, Dean?” Sam asked as Dean sat down on his bed.  
  
“About lunch-time tomorrow. I say we get settled in a motel then start asking questions. Where’s the best place to start, construction or protesters?” Dean felt every second of his twenty-seven years and then some, or as Indy had put it, “it’s not the years, it’s the mileage.”  
  
Sam sat and thought about the question, “Well, from what I can see from the local press and blogs, the construction office and the protesters’ headquarters are both in town. We can decide when we get there, and I’ve got the names of all the eye witnesses who’ve seen the ghosts. We’ll try and track them down as well tomorrow, if you want.” Sam watched as Dean eased himself back on the bed, a look of relief sliding over his face as he did. “Dean, what cover are we gonna be using? I think going in as Feds might be a little heavy handed.”  
  
Dean looked over at Sam and smiled, “Oh, don’t worry, Sammy. I think I got that one covered.”  
  
The next afternoon, just as Dean promised, they checked into the Desert Rose Motel. No cliché had gone undisturbed in the decor of the room. Dean had not been too impressed with the steer skull nailed up over his bed; he wasn’t sure whether to pull it down then salt and burn it. Or sleep with a crash helmet on, in case it fell down in the night. Sam had laughed at Dean, until he’d seen the rattlesnake lamp beside his bed. “Oh, come on, man, that’s just wrong.” Dean had said when he saw it, and suddenly he felt a great deal of affection for his steer skull.  
  
They stood side by side, getting dressed in their suits then Dean had handed over the fake identity they were using for today. Sam had taken one look and said “You got to be kidding me, right?” Dean had just smirked at him, and walked to the door, Sam following behind him, lips pursed in displeasure.  
  
When they parked in the town they looked around; Creek Ridge was like many small towns. It was slightly shabby, and a lot of the shops looked like they needed a lick of paint. But there seemed to be an air of desolation hanging over the town, as if the heart of it had been torn out. Dean looked over at Sam in askance, “There used to be a big factory here, but it shut down around three years ago. The place has been slowly dying ever since. Then Daryl Gray Bear managed to get the tribal elders to agree to the casino, and suddenly this place had a new lease of life.”  
  
Dean looked around again, “I hate to say it, but where, man? I’ve seen more life in a corpse. Shall we start with the saviour of the town? Mr Snake Oil himself? I’d like to hear his version of events first. I’m not in the mood to be lectured on the evils of gambling. I mean, where’s the harm in a little poker now and then?” Dean asked innocently as they walked down the sidewalk. Sam smiled at the mention of one of their forms of income; it tended to be less bruising than pool hustling.  
  
They found themselves standing outside a smart-looking set of offices. Through the smoky glass window they could see inside where there were leather sofas and chrome and glass tables. The sign above the window proclaimed this was The Phoenix Construction Company. Dean looked up at it, “Nice touch - the town rising from the ashes. Come on, Sam. The only thing the guy ain’t got is a cardboard cut-out of himself with a cheesy grin.” Dean rattled the door impatiently. Sam quirked an eyebrow at his irate sibling.  
  
“What’s crawled up your ass and died, Dean? Look! From what I’ve read, this guy has the town’s best interests at heart. You keep this up, and you’ll be joining the ranks of the protesters calling for the casino to be stopped. I’d have thought the idea of a casino would be right up your street. You know, a den of iniquity.” Sam’s words stopped Dean attacking the door.  
  
Dean turned back and spoke to Sam, “I’ve got nothing against the idea of a five-star hotel and casino, with hot and cold running showgirls. I just don’t like the whole ‘I’m saving the town’ spiel. Just be honest and say I’m making a shit load of money, and while I’m about it I’ll throw in a few computers for the school. Where the hell is everyone?” Dean leant against the doors and looked across the street; he started to laugh.  
  
“What’s so funny, Dean? “ Sam asked as his brother continued to laugh.  
  
“You know when you said the construction offices and the protesters’ headquarters were in town, I didn’t realize you meant opposite one another.” Dean pointed at a building, and Sam’s mouth dropped open.  
  
“You said that Amber Moon River chic was a protester. Would she happen to hang out at the Creek Ridge Inter Tribal Community Harmony Centre?” Dean said with a grin.  
  
“Amber Moon Haven, Dean. Well, as Mr Gray Bear appears to be out at the moment, let’s see if anyone is home over the road.” Sam led the way and as they got closer they saw movement inside the building, “Now remember, behave yourself. We’re here to get information. No cracks about casinos and no Dances with Wolves comments, please.” Dean looked contritely at Sam then grinned behind his back.  
  
They stepped inside the ‘Harmony Centre’ and Sam was in his element. All round the walls were displays covering the history of the local area - from how many tribes lived together, to why they came to be in the area. Sam was itching to go over and read them, when he heard Dean move. Dean was staring intently at something...no, scratch that, someone. Someone who was bent over a display of books, a very shapely someone. Sam glared at Dean who raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned back and looked down at the woman’s ass, just as she stood and turned round.  
  
A pair of deep brown eyes sparkled with annoyance and the woman frowned at Sam. Sam looked horrified, realizing she thought it had been him ogling her instead of his brother. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, who just brushed past with his most charming smile on his face. Dean took in the figure stood in front of him. The woman was beautiful with almond shaped brown eyes, and long black hair, pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. A full pair of lips were pressed tightly together as she looked at the two men with suspicion.  
  
Dean’s smile grew broader; this was the kind of interview he liked to conduct. He was about to put out his hand and introduce himself when the woman spoke first, “Can I help you, gentlemen? If you’re looking for Daryl Gray Bear he’s having a few problems over at the construction site.”  
  
Dean felt Sam move level with him, and Sam asked the question “Is there a problem at the site? Nothing serious, I hope.” Sam’s earnest expression seemed to mollify the woman, even though she’d seemed ready to hit Sam with the pile of pamphlets she was holding when she’d first seen him. Her face lit up in a mischievous smile. And she put the pamphlets down on the counter.  
  
“No, nothing too serious. It appears that Daryl is having some trouble with his cement mixer again.” Dean couldn’t help but warm to the woman. Ok, she was hot, so sue him. He was just about to ask how she knew about the cement mixer problem, when another voice floated from a back room.  
  
“Amber, how many times have I got to tell you kids to leave the damn construction site alone....Oh, you’ve got company, I’ll come back later.” The man had walked into the centre. He was shorter than Dean, and his hair was grey and braided into two plaits. Dean looked at him and the word that came to mind was weather-beaten; his skin was wrinkled and put Dean in mind of worn leather. This was a man who worked outside most of his life. Dean glanced at his hands and he could see signs of manual labour there. Maybe he was one of the construction workers. He watched Amber’s smile as it became warmer.  
  
“Ahh, come on, Grandfather. Not every problem on the site is down to us, stay please. I’m just helping these gentlemen out. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your names?” Amber had rested her hand on her Grandfather’s shoulder; she looked at Sam and Dean.  
  
Sam reacted first, reaching inside his jacket to pull out his I.D. “I’m Sam Lord, and this is my partner, Dean Coverdale, we’re from the Gaming Commission. We wanted to talk to Mr Gray Bear about the casino, and the issues that have developed at the construction site.” Dean watched the smile vanish from Amber’s face; she stood up straighter and glared at Sam. She was completely unfazed by Sam’s greater height and build. Dean knew his brother was in for a rough ride. He looked over at the man stood beside the now furious woman, and he winced. The man returned his expression with a slight nod, and he appeared to mouth ‘ouch’ at Dean.  
  
Amber took a step forward, forcing Sam to take a step back right into Dean, putting her hands on her hips. “Oh great, two more idiots who think that damn monstrosity out of town is just what we damn well need! What, didn’t Daryl pay you enough when he bribed you to ignore the town’s protests? You here for a little kickback. I don’t deal with blood suckers, so you can get the hell out of here now.”  
  
Sam looked stunned and spread his hands out wide in a placating gesture; Dean had a feeling that wasn’t going to help. He decided to step in before Amber found something a hell of a lot more dangerous than a bunch of pamphlets to attack them with. “Sorry. What my partner meant to say was that we are investigating the very valid concerns of the community in relation to the new casino. Plus we only got this gig the other day, and we’re still playing catch-up. Please, any help you can give us would be more than welcome.” Dean gave his best winning smile, in the hope he could at least get Sam to the door, before Amber decided to brain him with one of the weapons being displayed on the walls.  
  
Sam got with the program, and stepped in to help. “My apologies, ma’am. We didn’t mean to cause offense. We are just here to canvas opinion, and report back to our bosses. What are the concerns? Is it that the Casino is too close to town? Or do you feel it may be detrimental to the local community?” Once again Sam unleashed his most devastating weapon from his arsenal - the ‘I’m a puppy and harmless’ look. This time it seemed to work, and Amber calmed down a little.  
  
“For a start, call me Amber. ‘Ma’am’ makes me sound like a school teacher. Are you really interested in what the problem is, or are you gonna toe the party line about all the jobs the place will create?”  
  
Sam smiled a little more and his dimples deepened. He looked over at one of the displays and started to talk. “I’d hate to see such a wonderful and unusual community being disrupted by the casino. I’m not saying we can stop it but our report may help to ease any fears on your part. Please could you explain about different tribes that live here and how that came about? I’m fascinated.” Amber relaxed and walked Sam over to the display, which left Dean with Amber’s grandfather. He moved to stand next to the older man. While Sam was getting the history lecture he’d try and get some insider info himself.  
  
“She’s very protective of the town and the people, isn’t she? You must be quite proud of your granddaughter.” Dean watched Amber’s animated history lesson, and Sam the geek was just lapping it up.  
  
“Oh, Amber is very protective of our people and culture alright. She took the whole casino thing very badly; she and her friends have been very vocal about it. And just to let you know she isn’t my granddaughter.” The older man smiled at Dean’s puzzled expression.  
  
“Sorry. Amber forgot to introduce me when she decided to give your partner the fifty-dollar tour. I’m Albert Crowe; she calls me grandfather out of respect for my position in the community.” Albert waited for Dean to process this.  
  
“Ok, what position is that? Are you one of the Tribal elders or something?” Dean asked.  
  
“Nothing like that, I’m a Shaman. I still respect the ancestors and try to walk the right path to honour them. Amber is my best student; I have high hopes for her following in my footsteps and becoming the next Shaman.” Dean could see the fondness in the other man’s eyes as he spoke about Amber.  
  
Dean looked closer at what Albert was wearing. Hanging around his neck on a strip of leather was what appeared to be a claw, and he dropped his eyes lower. He could see bead work, and it was attached to something beneath Albert’s plaid work shirt. Dean realized that Amber wore something similar round her neck; it was a small leather pouch covered in intricate bead work. Dean had noticed it because of how it nestled between Amber’s breasts; he’d mention it to Sam see if he’d spotted it.  
  
“A female shaman? I always thought that it was only men who held that position?” Dean was getting interested in this; it could have some bearing on the case. If Amber really had a problem with the development, then maybe she had the juice to do something about it.  
  
Albert unconsciously touched at the shape under his shirt, “Not always. It’s long been accepted that women make better healers, and they do listen to the ancestors better than we do. In the Cherokee culture the War Chiefs were always men, but the Peace Chiefs were often women. Amber isn’t all that unusual, one day she will more powerful than me. But she still has a long way to go; she needs to learn not to be so hot headed. But this business with Daryl isn’t helping matters at all.” Albert sounded a little concerned as he spoke about the relationship between the two of them.  
  
Dean grinned. Now they were getting to the good stuff, “So is there history between those two? And I understand why she is concerned about the development, but surely the town needs the jobs the casino will bring here.” Dean hoped that the old man would let something slip.  
  
“You could say there is history between them. Daryl and Amber were an item once upon a time. Then Daryl began to get interested in development, and suddenly this place wasn’t big enough for him. He moved on, and left Amber nursing a broken heart. Five years later he comes riding back. He has all these big plans for the town. He soon won over the town council and most of the town folk. Amber and a few of her friends are the sole dissenting voices. It’s sad really, because Daryl and Amber are both right and wrong at the same time.” Dean was just about to ask what Albert meant by the last statement when he heard Sam and Amber returning.  
  
They were still talking animatedly as Sam looked at Dean who was practically bouncing on the spot, which meant, either Sam had been clued in about who the ghosts were, or he was looking at a full Discovery Channel performance tonight back at the motel room about the town and its history. “Dean, Amber’s been telling me all about how the town began, and why there are different tribes living side by side.” Dean couldn’t help but smile at Sam’s enthusiasm. His brother was born for this kind of thing, and he’d look forward to hearing all about it later but for now they had a job to do.  
  
Sam had been the bad cop when they’d come in, now it was his turn. It was always easier for Dean to play bad cop, Sam was just so good at smoothing the ripples he caused. Plus he always looked so sympathetic that everyone told him their secrets. Dean straightened up and Sam caught the subtle shift in his posture; he braced, ready for Dean to start asking awkward questions. Dean would rely on Sam having Amber on side, now he was going to upset her.  
  
“I’m sorry to have to break up the history lesson, but there is another reason for us being here. There have been reports of sabotage on the site, and sightings of mysterious figures being seen on site. I can understand your reason for protesting, but resorting to violent tactics will not help your cause. There have been several serious allegations, including that one of the protesters let the hand brake off a truck. There could have been a serious accident, and people could’ve been hurt.” Dean’s demeanour had become serious and the atmosphere changed.  
  
Amber’s face darkened and she looked enraged. Dean felt Albert become tense beside him. Amber stepped closer to Dean and spoke, “Right, so we get to the heart of it now. Daryl’s gone bleating to you about the protests. Listen, all the protests have been peaceful. I can’t help it if Daryl’s crappy machines break down.”  
  
“Excuse me. When we came in, even Mr Crowe here thought you and your friends were behind the latest breakdown. You must understand how it looks to us, Amber.” Dean responded calmly.  
  
Amber sighed and played with the pouch hanging round her neck, the gesture seeming to calm her; she looked at the floor and looked right into Dean’s green eyes. “I don’t expect the likes of you to understand what this casino will mean to the people of the town. We are trying to stop Daryl tearing the heart out of this community, and ok, we may have tried to slow him down with the odd spanner in the works. But to try and hurt people? No way, Mr Coverdale. A lot of the construction workers on that site are my neighbours and friends, and I can understand why they have to work there. Now I asked you once before to leave. I mean it this time.” Amber’s voice was quiet but brooked no argument.  
  
Dean moved forward slowly, pausing to ask another question, “You’re blaming the more violent incident on these figures, or should I say ghosts, that the construction workers have reported seeing. Is that what you’re telling me? That we should be hunting for these ghosts, haunting the site?” Dean’s kept his voice level and he never took his eyes off Amber’s face when he spoke.  
  
Amber’s expression never changed but Dean saw the flicker of apprehension in her eyes. He’d hit a nerve when he mentioned the ghosts. “Oh, this gets better. First you accuse me and my friends of being some sort of urban terrorist group, now you drag up the ghosts! Listen, it’s just some crap being spun by guys who’ve had too much to drink and gone on site the next morning and screwed up. They either blame us or a phantom tribe. But if you want to ask them yourselves why don’t you try the local bar? They all gather there after work. You buy ‘em a beer and they tell you all the ghost stories you want to hear. Now the door’s over there, please use it.” Amber folded her arms and glared at Dean.  
  
Dean nodded and turned to leave but as he and Sam reached the door, he turned back. “I’m sorry you feel like this, Miss Moon Haven, but I promise we will be asking the same kind of questions of Mr Gray Bear, goodbye.” Then Dean followed Sam out of the door.  
  
They stood on the sidewalk and Dean loosened his tie. Sam ran his fingers through his hair, “That went well, Dean. Why did you have to upset her like that? She could've provided us with some useful Intel. Now she’s likely to warn the whole town not to talk to us.” Sam was frustrated with Dean and his attitude towards Amber. She’d been fascinating and her passion for the town and its inhabitants had warmed Sam. What the hell was Dean doing, treating her like that?  
  
Dean started to walk over the road, back to the Impala, “Sam, I get it she’s hot, and I bet she gives a mean lecture on local history. But before you get your panties in such a bunch we have to have them surgically removed, did you see what she had around her neck? I spotted it.” Dean leant on the roof of the Impala.  
  
Sam paused, thinking about what Amber was wearing. His face lit up with recognition, “She was wearing a medicine pouch, and there was me thinking you were just staring at her breasts, Dean.” Sam grinned at his brother.  
  
“Sammy, you wound me. As if I’d do something to objectify a woman like that...ok, you got me. But Albert mentioned that Amber is a trainee Shaman, and like you said, she’s real passionate about the casino not being built. What if she’s summoning the ghosts to the construction site? I say we pay it a little visit later.” Dean opened the door of the Impala and got in.  
  
Sam got in beside him, “What about Daryl, or do you think we got our culprit?” He waited as Dean started the engine.  
  
“I say we go and see him tomorrow just to be sure. Damn, I was hoping he’d have something to do with it. Why don’t we hit the bar later? Talk to a few of the locals, see what they say about the whole situation. While we’re at it you can fill me in about your history lesson from the gorgeous Amber.” Dean started the Impala, his mind on the cold beer he’d drink tonight.  
  
The two men were unaware they were being watched. Stood in the window of the centre, Amber and Albert watched as Sam and Dean drove off. Amber spoke first, “So what do you think of our Gaming Commission agents then?” She looked at Albert, watching his reaction.  
  
Albert just smiled and shook his head, “Gaming commission, my ass. We need to keep a close watch on those two. They have no idea just what forces they are up against. They may just go and get themselves hurt”  
  



	5. Chapter 5

The Way of the Warrior Chapter 4.  
  
  
  
The Impala came to a halt as Sam and Dean emerged from her, still dressed in their suits. After the interview with Amber, they had managed to track down a few of the witnesses to the appearances on the construction site. Splitting up to cover more ground they had questioned them, now they walked towards the only bar in town. It was called The Tavern, and when they stepped inside they let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Dean looked round, and nodded his approval. The place was clean, had food on offer, and there was a large television, showing sport. Sat at the bar were a row of men, the kind of men found in any town at most bars. They had finished work, and some were just having a beer with friends before heading home. The hardcore would still be here at closing time, after drinking their evening meal.  
  
Dean walked up to the bar and gestured to the man behind it. The bartender came over. “And what can I get two members of the Gaming Commission tonight?” His face wore a pleasant enough smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Dean just felt like turning around and leaving, but he and Sam had to dig up more Intel before going after the ghosts. “Two beers, please. Whatever you have on draught, and what’s good on the menu tonight? Even bloodsucking agents of a corrupt commission have to eat sometimes.” Dean waited to see if the guy would serve him or knock him out; as he waited he loosened his tie in a gesture of both exhaustion and frustration. His body ached and he wasn’t in the mood to be jerked around right about now.  
  
The bartender who’d been scowling at him, suddenly grinned. “You must be the singer with the band; Amber said you got a smart mouth on you. I gotta say, man, it takes balls to goad Amber on her own turf. I hear you want to ask a few questions about what’s been going down on the site. Well, Mr Coverdale, you’ve come to the right place, stick around. Then you and your partner will be able to talk to the construction workers, and the protesters.” As he spoke the man was filling a glass with beer.  
  
Dean’s raised his eyebrows, “What? You get both sides of this in here? Don’t it get kind of frisky at times?” Dean gratefully picked up the cold beer, and took a long drink. God! That felt good!  
  
“Not really. For the most part it tends to be civil. If I think it’s gonna get out of hand I usually ask the parties involved to leave...politely, of course.” Dean looked up at the man who was heavily muscled and gave off a ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe. Dean admitted to himself, even he would think twice about tackling him right at this moment in time.  
  
“You don’t mind us asking questions, then? I thought Amber would’ve told everyone not to talk to us.” Dean was intrigued by the attitude.  
  
The bartender shrugged, “Amber is many things, but she’d never tell people not to talk - she lets you make up your own mind. To be honest about the casino, I ain’t all that bothered one way or the other. While the place is being built, I get the construction crew coming in, and those boys can drink.” He poured another beer.  
  
“What happens when the place is finished and open? Won’t it affect your business?” Dean asked.  
  
The bartender shrugged again, “Not really. The casino is five miles out of town and besides those who work there have to eat and drink, don’t they? I’m a practical man. That place is going up no matter what me or anyone else thinks. By the way, the chilli is good tonight.” He handed the other beer to Dean.  
  
“Thanks, man. I’ll take one chilli....” Dean picked up the menu, looked down and smiled “And one chicken salad for my partner, and thanks for your help.” Dean handed over his money, and walked back towards Sam.  
  
Sam was sitting in a booth, going over his notes from his conversation with Amber, and the few witness statements he and Dean had taken. The witnesses had all seen the same kind of thing -Native American men. Some wore the pants and shirts of the time. Others were dressed in the more traditional buckskin clothing, and each man’s hair was dressed differently. Some had it braided, others wore it loose. Some witnesses swore they had war paint on, others said there was nothing. They all agreed that the men were armed, some with rifles and a couple carried bow and arrows.  
  
Sam was puzzled by the varying descriptions of the ghosts. Maybe it was as Dean had suggested. That it was the Protesters dressing up as historical Native Americans, and they were the ones haunting the site and disrupting the work. But there were things that didn’t add up to that, the cold spots for one. And each of the witnesses swearing the figures had faded away in front of them, if someone got too close.  
  
Dean sat down and handed Sam a beer. He took a drink and Dean watched his brother pour over his notes. “It seems we’re the lead item in the local news. Amber’s spread the word about us. But according to our friendly host over there, people will still talk to us. Oh, by the way, I’ve ordered us some food.” Dean took another drink.  
Sam looked up from his notes; he shuddered at the thought of the kind of food Dean had ordered for him. “Relax, princess. I got you a chicken salad. You don’t want to be losing that girlish figure now, do you?” Dean grinned as Sam huffed back at him. “While we’re waiting, care to fill me on the history of the place. After all, you and Amber looked real cosy when you were talking.” Dean sat back, leaning against the booth, his back was killing him. The bruising over his kidneys was tender, and where the cue had struck him across his back, his shoulders felt as if they were on fire. He was looking forward to getting back to the motel for some rest, but for now they still had work to do.  
  
Sam sat up straighter, making Dean smile. He was getting ready to educate him; Dean took another drink and sat forward with an expression of rapt attention on his face.  
  
Sam looked over at his brother, frowning slightly when he saw the flicker of discomfort that crossed Dean’s face. Then he rolled his eyes when Dean sat, looking at him with what he liked to call Dean’s thinking face. It looked more like constipation to him, but he supposed he better get the mocking over and done with.  
  
Sam pulled on his tie and undid the top button of his shirt, “Ok, Dean, here it is. The edited highlights of Creek Ridge’s history.....” Before Sam could go any further, he was interrupted.  
  
“What, no director’s cut? Damn, I was looking forward to all the extras and outtakes. Sorry, Sammy, carry on.” Dean smirked, and then quirked his eyebrow at his brother.  
  
“It’s Sam, and I wanted to make sure you paid attention, so I’m going for all the battle scenes. The town was founded around the end of eighteen forty; it seems that the population all migrated here on ‘The Trail of Tears’. They were escorted here by the Fourth Cavalry, under the command of a Captain Edgar Stoneman.” Dean leant closer and interrupted Sam once more.  
  
“Trail of Tears? Wasn’t that when the government forced the Cherokee off their land, and dragged them halfway across the country to Oklahoma or somewhere?” Sam looked surprised at the question. He’d been expecting some smart-assed comment, not that.  
  
“That’s it, and I bet you’re wondering how come these people ended up here. It seems that the government were killing two birds with one stone. Not only did they want Cherokee land, but several prominent tribal members were seen as agitators. In other words, they didn’t take too kindly to seeing their people dying. The government separated these particular men and women from the rest of the Cherokee Nation. At the same time, groups of Creek, Choctaw and Seminole were being moved for the exact same reason. They were all gathered together in Oklahoma, and then moved on under armed guard of the Fourth Cavalry, as I said.  
  
The journey was brutal, and many people died, especially children. Amber believes that the government was hoping that in-fighting between the tribes would break out. Meaning these people would effectively wipe each other out on the march.” Sam paused, checking his notes.  
  
Dean thought for a few seconds, “I gotta say, Sam, the old U S of A government back then didn’t exactly cover itself with glory. Let me guess. The tribes didn’t end up fighting, but banding together against a common enemy. How am I doing so far?” Dean asked and Sam nodded.  
  
“After about a quarter of those on the march either died, or became sick due to the harsh conditions, there was a rebellion. Captain Stoneman was a cold-hearted bastard, barely giving the people time to bury their dead, or even enough food to survive on. All he cared about was driving those on the march down into Mexico, as per his orders.  
  
Finally they had enough and they made a stand. There was a war council and they appointed a Cherokee War Chief. His name was ay kwa yoh nah, which means Great Bear. Great Bear was called that because of his great stature. He towered over his compatriots by standing the great height of six-foot tall, and he was courageous and cunning, according to the history of the tribes.” Sam paused again, flipping through his notes. He glanced up at Dean.  
  
Dean was entranced by the story. Sam half smiled to himself. Despite his big brother’s pretence, Sam knew he loved hearing about the stories behind some of the hauntings they dealt with. Sam knew this particular story would strike a deep chord with Dean from the way that Great Bear and his warriors had protected those weaker than themselves, willing to risk everything for family. Yes, Dean had a lot in common with the chief.  
  
“According to the charming Captain Stoneman, the only good Indian was a dead Indian. Then when over five hundred men and women broke away from the rest of the marchers, he went after them. He left only a token force to shepherd over two thousand people. What he didn’t realize was he was being lured into a trap by Great Bear.”  
  
Dean took a swig of beer, trying to dislodge the distaste he felt for a long dead man. “The dude sounds like a complete dick. Give him a gun, and a uniform and he thinks he’s God. Please tell me Great Bear and his warriors kicked the bastard’s ass. Sorry, Sammy, carry on. It’s just... what a bastard.” Sam nodded his agreement and continued with the story.  
  
“The group broke away and made a run for the canyon. What the esteemed captain didn’t know was that Great Bear had been sending scouts to look for the perfect place to stand and fight, for a while. They had told the soldiers they were hunters, trying to bring food back for the rest of the marchers. The captain and his officers were so damn arrogant, they thought they had broken the tribe’s people, and the soldiers allowed it.  
  
What they actually brought back, along with game was intelligence; they spoke of a large box canyon and flat open spaces, just the kind of place the warriors could stand and fight. Great Bear led most of his warriors to the canyon, and that’s where he waited for the cavalry to come to them. And Captain Stoneman came, along with three quarters of his troop, leaving weakened and dispirited people trudging on to his ultimate goal.  
  
With the canyon at his back, Great Bear took advantage of Captain’s Stoneman’s arrogance. The warriors cut through them as if they were nothing, and the battle raged for a couple of days. The Native Americans utilised their skills - lightning horseback raids and surprise attacks to weaken the soldiers. They were successful, because Stoneman, the asshole, never thought to check where Great Bear was hiding his men.”  
  
Dean interrupted Sam, “Hang on, Sammy. You mean to tell me, that idiot rode past the only piece of natural cover and shelter for miles. And he never thought to check it out? Damn, that guy really did deserve to get his ass kicked.” Dean was leaning forward, a light in his eyes, happy to hear that Great Bear made a fool of the man. Sam smiled sadly. He knew how the story ended, and he supposed, deep down, so did Dean.  
  
“I’m right with you there, big brother, but in the end even Stoneman realized what was happening. Stoneman sent out his own scouts who tracked a raiding party to the canyon. It was poorly guarded because Great Bear couldn’t spare the men; he had to keep pressing the cavalry for as long as possible. On the fourth night, Stoneman marched his troops to the canyon. He blockaded the mouth of it, preventing Great Bear and all the surviving warriors from escaping.  
  
Then he sent men up the canyon walls, picking off any Native American who tried to stop them....Dean, he dynamited the whole ridge. Then at dawn the next day, Stoneman himself detonated the dynamite. The resulting rock slide took over ten feet in height from the canyon in places, killing or injuring everyone inside.” Sam’s voice faded, still sickened by what Amber had told him.  
  
Sam gathered himself together and continued, “Captain Stoneman then turned his men around, and they rode back to the rest of the marchers. What he didn’t know was Great Bear’s act of rebellion was a diversion, meant to give as many of the marchers as much time as possible to escape. The soldiers were so hard pressed, they never noticed at first how many people just melted away. By the time they realized what was going on, it was too late. Captain Stoneman returned to only a fraction of the numbers he’d been escorting.” Sam stopped again; he saw Dean had grown pensive. He knew his brother felt for Great Bear and his men. That hearing about the treatment the tribes had suffered, and the fate of those who tried to stand up to Stoneman’s cruelty, affected Dean deeply.  
  
“Captain Stoneman flew into a rage, and promptly turned his now exhausted men back around to pursue the ‘renegades,’ as he called them. By the time he caught up with them they had reached what was to become the town, and this time he was outnumbered and out gunned. The tribes refused to move; on their way through they had discovered the canyon. Apparently they heard the final dying cries of those trapped inside. They decided that was it - no more running. They sat down and refused to move on. They even took out more of the fourth until there were only fifty or so men left. Captain Stoneman fled. He went back to report the hideous attacks on his men, and he fully expected to return with more military might.” Sam reflected on the long dead captain. Dean was right... the guy had been a complete dick. But he had a history to complete, and so he spoke again.  
  
“Sadly for the captain he didn’t get his reinforcements. Because before Great Bear made his final stand, he had sent messengers out to tell other Native American Nations what had happened. By the time Captain Stoneman reached Washington, his reception wasn’t quite what he expected.”  
  
Dean slammed his glass down, “Please tell me he was court marshalled, and thrown out of the army for what he did. Shit! What a bastard!” Dean felt disgust at the story he was hearing. Hell, if he’d been Great Bear he would have done the same. Except he would’ve made sure Stoneman never got home.  
  
“Actually, several senators wanted to give him a medal for his sterling work. What stopped them was a united delegation of Native American Nations, who threatened retaliation for what happened at the canyon. Faced with the prospect of a mass uprising, the government quietly backed down. It was easier to leave the survivors of this ‘Trail of Tears’ where they were. They created a new Reservation, and included the canyon in the Reservation’s land. Stoneman’s once fantastic career was stalled, and he found himself being left out in the cold.  
  
Meanwhile back at Creek Ridge the town was born, and it grew steadily. It seems that word had spread about the final battle. Many family members of those who died in the canyon found their way to the town, including Great Bear’s sons and wife who he’d entrusted to the care of the warriors he left protecting the other marchers.  
  
The canyon became sacred ground; it took years before the entrance was finally cleared of the debris. From what Amber told me, the remains were placed within the canyon walls, and treated with all the proper rites, according to their status as warriors.” Sam stopped talking, their food had arrived and Dean ordered two more beers.  
  
“What happened to Captain Stoneman, and how come none of this is public knowledge? I mean, there are plenty of accounts of other massacres the army was responsible for?” Dean took a bite of chilli; he went bright red and loosened his collar a little more.  
  
Sam smiled at the display, watching as Dean continued to eat. There was no way his brother would ever admit that the chilli might just be too hot. Sam started his own salad; he chewed on a piece of chicken. “Poor Captain Stoneman appears to have been a victim of friendly fire, or should I say he was shot by one of his own men. That was after he ordered them to open fire on women and children. As for why this was kept quiet - it seems the army was embarrassed by how easily Great Bear managed to fool one of their most promising officers. It was decided that the Valley of Tears as it became known, was best forgotten. Creek Ridge became something of a sanctuary for Native American families who couldn’t settle on other Reservations. That’s why this place is so special, Dean; the different tribes put aside their usual differences and worked as one. They became a family, not of blood but in spirit. Now it seems that the casino is putting that in danger, and it could be why the ghosts are acting up.” Sam stopped speaking and they both continued to eat.  
  
As they did, Dean went over the story he’d just heard. He was worried; these ghosts had plenty of reason to be pissed at their resting place being violated. “Sam, does that mean the casino is actually being built in the canyon? Because I’d have thought the elders wouldn’t have allowed that.”  
  
Sam shook his head at this. Swallowing, he answered. “Actually the casino is being built over a mile away from the canyon, as I said the other day. It could be the ghosts that are being seen, are the spirits of the warriors who died in the desert. I’m kind of hoping that’s the case, because Dean, these spirits more than most, have a damn good reason to be angry. Not everyone died right away after the canyon was dynamited. The lucky ones died immediately, the others were buried alive...” Sam went silent, trying not to dwell on how they had met their end.  
  
“I gotta say, Sammy, I’m with you; I don’t think I’d take too kindly to being woken up from my well-earned eternal rest, only to find a hotel and casino being built over my grave, and worse, the place is full of white men. Shit, it’s a total recipe for disaster. Did Amber say anything else about the canyon? Like seeing figures there, or any strange stories connected to it?” Dean heard the door open, and he looked over to see who was coming in. It looked like the construction crews were coming in for their evening refreshment, they were a mixed bunch. The group consisted of both Native Americans and white Americans; they were all laughing as they walked over to the bar. The men sat on stools, and suddenly the noise in the bar increased with good natured talking.  
  
Sam watched the men. He and Dean would go over there soon and mingle, ask a few questions about what had been happening on site. Before they did he’d answer Dean’s question, “No, Amber never mentioned anything like that, but I don’t think she would’ve shared that information. After all, if she is an apprentice Shaman. She would want to protect the resting place of her ancestors.”  
  
Dean took another drink of beer, “Alternatively, she might not want anyone to know she’s been the one setting the alarm clock.” Dean heard a particularly loud laugh. He glanced up and for a second he saw several curious faces looking at them.  
  
Sam noticed this too, “Hey, Dean. You don’t think that Amber was on to us? You know, the whole gaming commission cover being a bust.” Sam kept a watch on the men at the bar.  
  
Dean looked at his drink and remembered the bartender’s comment about the singer with the band. He shrugged his shoulders, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Sam, unless they threaten to run us out of town. Shall we go and chat to the locals then?” Dean slid out of the booth, stood up and made his way over to the construction workers.  
  
Sam watched as Dean weaved his magic with the men at the bar, despite the fact he was wearing his suit, and several of the men kept referring to him as Agent Black. Dean soon had the men eating out of the palm of his hand, buying them beers, commiserating with them over their jobs, or girlfriends, or both. Finally Dean swung the conversation round to the rumours of ghosts on site, and how it was affecting the building work.  
  
One man snorted in his beer, “Oh, come on, man! You don’t believe those fairy tales, do ya? I’m tellin’ ya, it’s just some of these shmucks from town. Listen, this casino is gonna be the best thing that ever happened to the place and some folks are up in arms about it. God, I really don’t get you lot.” He looked over at his colleagues. Dean tensed at the words, wondering if a fight was going to break out. He was just getting ready to smooth things over, when one of the local men responded.  
  
“Yeah, that’s right, Norm. We all go home to our tepees at night and roast buffalo over fires, built out of computers because we’re all too goddamn dumb to use ‘em.” He was smiling as he spoke, and Norm put his hand up as if to say sorry. The man carried on. “You’ll have to excuse Norm. He hasn’t got the hang of cultural differences yet. He still can’t get over the fact we’ve all got mobile phones, and know what You Tube is. As for the protests, Amber and her friend’s hearts are in the right place, but this town needs the casino. But I don’t think they would go round, dressed up as the ancestors, just to get us to stop working. There are plenty of other ways to do that, trust me. And anyway, Norm, you had your own run-in with Geronimo, remember?” At that, laughter filled the room.  
  
Norm went bright red and grumbled something about smart-assed redskins, which led to a hail of peanut shells being thrown at him. Dean was enjoying the banter, “Come on, then, Norm. Don’t leave me in suspense. You actually saw one of the ghosts?” Dean grinned when Norm went even redder; the man turned the bottle in his hands round and round.  
  
“Oh, to hell with it! Yeah, I ran into a spook, Happy now? I was sending a pallet of bricks up on a hoist, when it suddenly got cold where I was standing. It was like someone had opened a goddamn freezer on the back of my neck. I turned round to tell these guys to stop goofing with the compressed air, and there he was. It was some Native American dude. He was just standing there and he wasn’t dressed like the rest of the guys. For a start he had feathers in his hair, and he was wearing buckskin pants. What scared me shitless was the rifle he was holding.” Norm paused, and wiped his hands nervously on his shirt.  
  
“What did the ghost do? Did it attack you or just stand there?” Sam was curious; this must’ve been the guy who claimed ‘Geronimo’ dropped a pallet of bricks on his head.  
  
Norm looked uncomfortable. He sighed, “Look, the dude just stood there. I kept telling him to move because he was right underneath the pallet of bricks..... Then the bastard just vanished! One second he was stood there, the next he was gone.” Norm still looked shaken as he recounted his tale.  
  
“I thought the ghost dropped the bricks on you?” Dean asked with a smile.  
  
Norm looked embarrassed, “No, he didn’t, but I got such a fucking scare I let go of the controls. The pallet slipped, and damn near flattened me.” There was laughter again, as well as good-natured cat calls.  
  
“Yeah and when Daryl came screaming round the corner, breathing fire, Norm did the only thing he could. He blamed the ghost for him being such a klutz.” Everyone laughed at that but before Sam could ask anything else the door opened again, and Amber walked in with several other people.  
  
For a second the room fell silent then the construction worker, who’d been mocking Norm, spoke. “Evening, Amber. Care to join the enemy for a beer? Or is this a protest meeting?” He raised his bottle in salute.  
  
Amber smiled and winked, “Thanks, Joe, but I’ll take a rain check on the beer. We agitators have got plans to make on how to bring down the casino, and return to sitting round singing songs of the old days.” Then she and her friends went and sat at a table.  
  
After a few more conversations with the construction crew, Sam and Dean went back to the booth where they had been sitting. “What do you think, Dean? By the sounds of it we are dealing with a haunting for definite, and it sounds like we have warriors from several different tribes.” Sam took a drink of beer, and thought about their next move.  
  
Dean rubbed at his eyes. God, this was getting more complicated. “I think we need to take a trip out to the construction site and see what’s what. I say we finish this and hit the road. Get an early start tomorrow. I’m sure Norm and the guys will be more than happy to let us on site.” Dean noticed there was someone stood by the booth; he glanced up to find Amber standing there.  
  
Dean smiled at her, “Good evening, Miss Moonhaven. I hope you’re having a pleasant evening. What can Sam and I do for you?” Dean wondered how much of their conversation she’d heard.  
  
“Good evening, Mr Coverdale, Mr Lord. I’m just checking that everything was satisfactory with your meals.” Sam glanced at Dean, his expression confused. Amber sat beside Dean, and she looked over at Sam. “Oh, I should have said I’m the co-owner of the bar, and I like to make sure that all my customers are treated well.” The unspoken words, ‘even those who accuse me of sabotage’ hung in the air.  
  
Sam leaned forward, “Amber, I promise you, we are here to investigate the concerns of the town. From what I’ve heard most of the people think this is a good idea. Please can you explain exactly what your objection to the casino is, please?” His voice was soft and full of sympathy for the fiery young woman.  
  
Amber sat back, hardly looking at Dean, “I’m not stupid, Mr Lord. The town needs the jobs. I just have a problem with the other plans for the site Daryl has. That’s what the protests are for. I don’t want to stop the casino completely, just part of it.”  
  
Dean moved slightly and Amber finally acknowledged him, “Like Sam said, we’re sorry if we have upset you, but we have to ask these kind of questions.” Dean gave his best winning smile.  
  
“Why do you have to ask about the town’s ghost stories? What kind of investigation are you two running?” Amber watched both men carefully; she saw a silent communication pass between them. It was Dean who answered.  
  
“When we received the reports concerning the sabotage and incidents from the site, they all mentioned the ghosts. We wouldn’t have been doing our job, if we hadn’t asked questions about them. Besides Sam is a sucker for a good ghost story, aren’t you, Sammy? He loves all that sitting round a camp fire being scared.” Sam just narrowed his eyes, and gave a strained smile in agreement.  
  
“How come you’re part owner of a bar? I thought you worked at the Harmony Centre?” Dean guided the conversation away from the case. But it did explain the bartender’s comment about the singer in the band. Amber had warned him about them. And it would explain why no one else seemed to be suspicious of them.  
  
Amber’s smile grew a little sadder, “That’s easy. When my grandfather died he left me some money. My partner, Eddie, the guy behind the bar, needed someone to invest. I was only too happy to. So, like I said, was the meal ok?” Amber looked at the brothers as she spoke.  
  
“The meal was great. Only I think the chilli may have been a little too hot for my poor partner.” Sam grinned, as Dean flushed with embarrassment.  
  
“Actually I meant to ask you earlier. Is there any truth in the stories? You know...the ghosts that have been seen on site? From what I understand, some of your protesters have seen them as well.” Sam asked the question casually, but both men saw the imperceptible flinch Amber gave. Before she could answer the door swung open, and Amber’s face changed. She went from relaxed to angry in the blink of an eye.  
  
Dean watched as she stood up, following her eye line to see who she was glaring at. A man was approaching them, a little shorter than himself. His black hair was cut into a crew cut and the suit he wore was expensive. He had a charming smile on his face, and Dean didn’t need an introduction to know who was standing there.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing in here, Daryl?” Amber’s voice had grown harsher as she spoke. She folded her arms, and stood there, radiating a cold anger.  
  
Daryl raised his hands in a placating gesture, “I don’t want to fight, Amber. I’m just here to extend an invite to the two members of the Gaming Commission. After all, they are here to see the casino, not to listen to your ramblings about the damage I’m doing to our cultural heritage.”  
  
Amber gaped at the sheer nerve of Daryl. He side stepped her and held out his hand towards Dean. Dean looked at it as if it was a live electrical cable. He pulled himself together, and went to shake the outstretched hand. Hell, he’d even manage not to break the smug bastard’s fingers, while he was at it.  
  
Amber reached down and put her hand on top of Daryl’s, “You know why you’re not welcome here, Daryl, now I’m gonna ask you just once more to leave. Before Eddie has to come from behind the bar and you know as well as I do, nobody wants that.” Amber’s voice was soft but the threat within it was plain.  
  
Daryl stepped back, he shook his head at Amber, “Listen, it really doesn’t have to be like this. Look at what I’m offering the town - a new resort with plenty of jobs. With more jobs comes more money, and more money means better schools and clinics. You’re the one being unreasonable here, Amber. Look at how many of the town’s people are working for me. Are they all fools?” His voice was calm and reasonable.  
  
Amber stood up straighter, “You know I’m not calling the people, fools. I’m just asking not to go through with everything. Build your damn casino and fleece as many suckers as you want, just don’t use our heritage to sell it. That’s what I’m trying to stop, Daryl; you want to turn this land into a goddamn theme park. What’s next? Having your staff dress up as Indians? Have nightly shoot-outs with the cavalry? I know you’ll want to re-enact Great Bear’s final stand.....” Amber saw a look cross Daryl’s face as she said that  
  
“Holy shit! I’m right, ain’t I? Damn you, Daryl! It’s bad enough you touting this as some kind of Dances with Wolves experience, but to mock the memory of those who died here. Get the fuck out of my bar now!” Amber backed away from Daryl, her face contorted with rage.  
  
Daryl stood up straighter, “No, you’re the one who doesn’t get it, Amber. I will treat the memory of Great Bear and his men with respect; it’s a story that deserves to be told to everyone. How many people outside of this town know about what Great Bear and his warriors sacrificed?” He looked down at Dean and spoke, “Well, had you ever head of the ‘Valley of Tears’ before? Or what happened here?” Dean hated to give Daryl any backing, but he had to shake his head in response to the question.  
  
“No, I thought not. I want to show people what happened; I want them to see our traditions. Tell them the story of the final battle; how Great Bear ran rings round that white idiot. That it was only through an act of mass murder that he won. What is so wrong with that, Amber?” Daryl pleaded with her to see sense; he was doing this for the town. It needed this casino; it would help to bring it back to life. But Amber and her narrow mindedness was putting it at risk.  
  
Daryl wasn’t finished, “You know what, Amber? You just can’t stand the thought that poor little Daryl Gray Bear might actually be right? That showing visitors our way of life will help keep our traditions alive, not destroy them. And I just find it so sad that you’re so desperate to stop this, that you are even using our ancestors in such a cheap way.” He shook his head sadly as he spoke.  
  
“What the fuck do you mean by that, Daryl? You know I’d never dishonour our ancestors.” Amber was getting louder and louder, Sam moved towards the edge of the booth. He could sense the growing unease in the room. He saw Dean tense, ready to move into action if needed.  
  
Daryl pressed home his advantage, “Oh, come on, Amber! We all know that you and your bunch of idiots are responsible for the ghost sightings. It’s shameful to use those brave warriors like that. Dressing up and trying to stop the construction by frightening my workers.” For a moment nothing happened then all hell broke loose. Amber’s friends all leapt to their feet and started to yell at Daryl, the construction crew leaped to the boss’s defence. The two sides stood shouting at one another, and there were a few pushes and half-hearted threats of violence.  
  
Sam slid out of the booth and stood up, several people automatically moved away from Sam’s impressive build. Dean followed suit and he too found himself with plenty of room. They watched as Amber and Daryl continued with their heated words, Amber accusing Daryl of betraying his blood. And Daryl retorting they were in the twenty-first century and perhaps she might like to join the rest of them.  
  
Suddenly the temperature in the room dropped. The protesters and construction crew never noticed the change during their heated exchange. But Sam and Dean were immediately on their guard. They scanned the room, and at the same time they saw the cause of the change in temperature. Stood beyond the two warring factions, just in the shadows was an imposing figure. The man stood around six-foot tall; he was wearing a breech clout and leggings. On his feet were moccasins. He wore a shirt with a long beaded jacket over it, his hair long and braided. His hair was black but it was shot through with strands of grey. His face was impassive but Dean could tell immediately this was a warrior, by the way he assessed the room with a look.  
  
Dean took a step forward, and met the eyes of the ghost. Ghost and hunter stood looking at one another; Dean stared into eyes so dark they were almost black. He felt no fear as he stared at the apparition, instinctively Dean knew he was facing Great Bear. The ghost inclined its head, an unspoken challenge being issued; Dean stood straighter and with a look accepted the challenge. He began to move, and as suddenly as it appeared the figure was gone.  
  
The spell broken, Dean quickly glanced round the room. Sam was watching him and they both looked at Amber and Daryl. Amber seemed to be muttering to herself, and her hand was wrapped tightly round the medicine pouch around her neck. Daryl seemed to be shaken; it was obvious that he too had seen the ghostly warrior. The shocked expression suddenly shifted, and once more Daryl’s veneer of confidence reasserted itself.  
  
The bar was still in uproar, and Eddie appeared from behind the bar. He stood in the middle of the room and roared one word. “ENOUGH!” The two groups stopped shouting, and looked at Eddie. “Ok, one more word out of any of you, and you’re all barred. And you guys know the next bar ain’t for twenty miles or so, and I’ll make sure you don’t get a drink there neither. Now are you gonna kiss and make up? Or do I start making phone calls.” Eddie’s threat had silenced the room immediately.  
  
Dean watched as burly men shuffled from foot to foot, and choruses of “Don’t be like that, Eddie.” Could be heard from round the bar.  
  
Dean looked over at Sam, “I understand why they hate Eddie coming out from behind the bar now.” Sam said as he stood by his brother. They then turned towards Daryl and Amber.  
  
The two protagonists were still staring at one another. Dean nodded to Sam and Sam moved towards Daryl. “Mr Gray Bear, after witnessing this altercation, I believe that my partner and I should visit the construction site. We need to determine for ourselves the full extent of the problems. Will eleven o’clock be convenient?” Sam’s tone was friendly, but he gave Daryl no room to say no to the request.  
  
“Why, yes, of course. Eleven o’clock will be fine. I look forward to seeing the two of you then.” Daryl managed to regain his composure.  
  
Sam turned to Amber, “Goodnight, Miss Moonhaven. Thank you for your hospitality and maybe before we leave, we’ll have chance to sample the food here again.” Sam turned and headed towards the door. Dean said goodnight and followed him; as they reached the door Sam spoke. “We’re going back to the motel then?” Sam looked at his brother’s determined expression and knew exactly where they were going.  
  
They reached the Impala and Dean unlocked the door, “Yeah, we’re going back to the motel to get changed then we’re payin’ the construction site a visit tonight. That ok with you, Sammy?” He looked over the Impala at his brother, a smile on his face.  
  
They opened the door and got in. Sam took off his tie and grinned, “Sounds like a plan.” Dean started the engine and they drove away.  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The way of the warrior, chapter 5.  
  
  
  
“Ok, how do you want to play this, Dean? Split up or check the place over together.” Sam asked as they loaded up with extra salt cartridges. Dean was checking his sawn off. He snapped the gun shut then checked his flashlight was in good working order. He placed his hand on the lid of the Impala’s trunk and looked out at the darkened construction site. They’d gotten back to the motel, changed into something more comfortable, as Dean had said in a very suggestive tone of voice. Sam had responded by calling him an idiot, and throwing his dirty socks at him. Dean had staggered, clutching his throat, pretending to choke. Now in the cool of the desert night he stood there in his jeans, boots and many layers of shirts and he was thankful for the warmth of his leather jacket.  
  
“I think we should stick together, Sam. After all, we don’t know exactly how many ghosts are out there yet. Have there been any reports of sightings at night?” Dean watched as Sam ran through his own equipment checks. Once he was satisfied he put his stuff in the bag and stepped away from the car. Dean pulled the duffle bag out of the trunk, and zipped it closed. He slung the bag over his shoulder.  
  
“None, as far as I can tell. Doesn’t that strike you as a little odd? I mean, these ghosts have been seen in broad daylight, yet none of the security guards have reported anything.” They were walking towards the chain link fence as Sam spoke.  
  
Dean shrugged, “Not necessarily. Your average security guard on a place like this rarely leaves his warm hut if he can help it. The ghosts could be having a damn party and they would never be seen, or perhaps there is something here that Daryl wants to keep a lid on. Blame it all on the protesters but he knows he’s got a little ghost problem. Maybe he’s told his security to keep quiet about it.” Dean raised his hand and Sam stopped moving.  
  
There was a beam of light moving through the site - a security guard on his rounds. The brothers remained perfectly still, waiting for the man to pass by. Sam nudged his brother in the back, “So security guards never leave their huts?” There was amusement in his voice, Dean just scowled at him.  
  
“Yeah, well, it looks like Daryl employs the only security guards in the world that actually do their jobs. Ok, we’re gonna have to keep this quiet. I say we go over the fence here. The guards won’t be able to see my girl where she’s parked then we take a quick look around see if there is anything weird. Then we come back here for the grand tour tomorrow. Ready?” Dean asked and Sam nodded, throwing the duffle bag over first. Then both men scaled the fence, and dropped over the other side. They sprinted for cover, in case there was another guard doing the rounds.  
  
“Now what, Sam? Where have they had the most problems?” Dean asked quietly as he kept a watch for their flashlight wielding friend.  
  
“According to the reports, most of sightings have been by the actual hotel building. There have been no reports of human remains being found. But if Daryl is desperate to keep the construction going, there is every chance that he kept quiet, and just disposed of the remains.” They made careful progress to the unfinished building, both of them remaining vigilant.  
  
They reached what would one day become the casino’s entrance. They walked inside and paused. Dean opened his duffle bag, handed Sam his shotgun and flashlight then picked up his own and zipped up the bag. They made their way toward the concrete stairs. As they started climbing them Dean spoke to his brother, “I know Daryl’s a dick, but do you think he’d go that far just to keep the construction under way? And did you see his face at the bar when he saw our friend appear?” He spoke softly in case there were guards nearby.  
  
Sam hefted his gun and swept the area with his flashlight as they moved in tandem up the stairs. As they reached the first landing, he answered Dean’s question. “To be honest, I’m not sure if Daryl would go that far. But I know when he saw that ghost in the bar, it shook him up pretty good. And what about Amber? She had hold of that medicine pouch pretty tightly, and she was muttering something all the while he was there.” Sam paused, allowing Dean to step through into the corridor.  
  
They walked along the unfinished hallway, looking into shells of rooms, Dean slightly in front of Sam. He threw a comment over his shoulder. “I gotta admit she did have a hell of a hold on it. Kind of reminded me of you with your teddy bear...who was it now? Ah yes, Mr Snuggles. I can remember how you yelled the place down when dad made you get rid of him. What were you at the time...sixteen?” Sam growled, and then shoved his brother in the back, ignoring his laughter.  
  
“Seriously though, do you think she could have summoned it? She might be desperate enough to try stopping Daryl’s theme park that way.” Dean walked on, watching for the tell-tale flickering of a ghost.  
  
“It’s a possibility that the ghost was summoned there, all of the sightings have been here; nothing’s been mentioned about the town. Shall we go up?” Sam motioned with his flashlight towards another flight of unfinished stairs. Dean nodded and started upwards. Sam looked behind them to see if there was anything either human, or not following them. Happy that for now they were alone, he turned back and watched his brother climb the stairs in front of him.  
  
He remembered the confrontation with the ghost at the bar; it was the way the ghost had looked at his brother. It had been an assessing look; Sam had felt as if the ghost had been weighing Dean up as an adversary. Just before it vanished, Sam had seen a half smile appear on that stern face, as if Dean had measured up to the ghost’s high standards. God, he hoped he was wrong. The last thing they needed was the ghost of a Native American warrior wanting to try his hand at taking Dean out. They had enough problems already with the special kids deal, without that as well.  
  
Sam wasn’t concentrating fully on the rough staircase as he climbed. His head was still full of what happened at the bar. He never noticed the debris on the stair he was about to put his foot on. The second he stood on the step, the small pieces of concrete shifted and Sam’s ankle gave. He was thrown forward, landing hard on his knees. He hissed in shock as his arms jolted from the brunt of the impact, and he lost his flashlight in the fall. It rolled away from him until it came to rest against the wall. Dean heard the sound of Sam falling, and he spun around, gun raised, ready to fire.  
  
“Sammy! Are you alright?” Dean was about to start running back to his brother when he realized what had happened. He relaxed and lowered his gun. He saw his brother was staring intently at the wall, “Ok there, Sam? I can appreciate the audition piece for a slasher movie. You know the whole falling-over-while-being-chased-by-the-deranged-masked-killer, but falling up the stairs? Man, that’s lame even by your standards.” Dean cocked his head to one side, expecting a scathing comeback. But Sam didn’t appear to be paying attention to him.  
  
Sam put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his pen knife then opened up the blade. He began to dig at something he could see, just beneath the partially plastered wall. When he’d reached out to grab his flashlight, he’d spotted something. Now as he worked it free of the plaster he could see it was a leather bag which bag dropped to the floor. Sam folded his pen knife back up and put it back in his pocket. He picked up the bag and straightened up; he was still several steps short of the floor above. He turned the bag over, and wiped at the material, trying to clean the plaster dust from it.  
  
As Sam wiped the bag, the temperature dropped rapidly, and suddenly, flickering in front of him was a ghost. The ghostly warrior stood over him. In its hands was a rifle and the rifle was pointing right at him. Sam gripped the bag tightly in surprise, and jerked back in shock at the sudden appearance of the apparition. The movement caused him to slide down a couple of stairs on his front; he was reaching desperately for his gun when he heard a familiar war cry, “SAMMY!”  
  
Then a shot rang out and the ghost was fragmented by the salt round. Dean ran down the stairs to where Sam was still lying, trying to get his bearings, his hands reaching out for Sam’s shoulders. Gripping them tight he pulled Sam up, his eyes travelling up and down Sam’s body, “You ok there, Sam? Where the hell did that guy come from?” Dean’s eyes darted around the hallway, his flashlight swinging back and forth.  
  
Sam was still reeling from what had just happened when he remembered the leather bag in his hand, “Dean, shine your flashlight down here.” The beam of light quickly illuminated the bag, and they could see the outlines of beads on the leather. “What the hell? Is this a medicine pouch? I found it buried in the wall.” Sam looked back to the top of the stairs. As one they raised their guns and moved up the stairs together.  
  
They looked down the now empty hallway, and Sam reached out and grabbed his flashlight. He shone the light onto the hole where the bag had been, then Dean spoke “Shit, Sam, you don’t think that’s what caused the ghost to appear do you? Because if that’s the case, how many more of these are there in the walls?” Dean looked up at the wall, as if he expected to see a war party riding out of it at any second.  
  
Sam shook his head, “I’ve got no idea, Dean, if the bag’s the cause or not. But I think we should get out of here, in case the shot brings security running.”  
  
Dean held out his hand and helped Sam back to his feet, weighing up their options. They could wait it out, dodge the security guards and try to find out if there were more bags in the walls. But he knew that would be a bad idea. For a start they had the Feds breathing down their necks. Being caught on a construction site at night, armed, would take a hell of a lot of explaining. Gaming commission agents or not. Secondly, just how would they explain all the holes in the walls they’d have to make? Somehow Dean didn’t think Daryl would buy that termites had done it.  
  
“I’m with you, Sammy. I say we get out of here and check out the bag back at the motel. Then you and your gigantic brain can get to work on our little mystery here.”Dean led the way back down the stairs; they moved quickly in case security was on its way. They had just reached the ground floor, when they heard the sounds of footsteps. Sam reached out, and pulled Dean further into the shadows just in the nick of time.  
  
Two men came running in; they were younger and fitter than the average Rent-a-Cop. Sam watched as they ran up the stairs towards the source of the noise. They stood and waited for a few seconds, they could hear the sounds of the men as they moved above them. They were just about to step out from their hiding place, when the two security guards came down the stairs.  
  
“See, I told it was nothing, Alex. Who the hell fires a gun in a half-built hotel? Have you been watching The Sopranos again?” The voice sounded exasperated with his colleague.  
  
“I’m telling ya, Steve, it was a gunshot. You don’t think it was one of the ghosts, do you?” Steve looked around nervously as he spoke. Alex stopped walking, and spun around, shining the flashlight full in his partner’s face, making him throw his hand up in front of it.  
  
“Ok, that does it! When we get back to the hut, I’m confiscating your Red Bull. A ghost fired the shot, dude? You’re spending way too much time, listening to all the crazy that’s been goin’ on around here. Come on, I better not be missing CSI.” Alex strode off, leaving Steve trailing after him.  
  
“Interesting. Sounds like there has been nothing happening at night. Come on, Sam, let’s go. I want to check out that bag.” Dean spoke quietly in case the guards were still close by.  
  
Dean let Sam lead the way out of the half-built hotel. He had Sammy’s back and was making sure that they would get off the site without any further problems. Soon they were back at the fence. Dean threw the bag over the fence and he and Sam followed it. Sam reached the bag and picked it up, looking back into the darkened site.  
  
“All quiet now. Come on, Sam, let’s get out of here.” They walked to the Impala and loaded the bag in the trunk and drove away. At the fence the boys were watched by several silent figures. As the lights of the Impala vanished so did the ghostly watchers.  
  
  
  
Dean walked over to the table, put down two mugs of coffee and sat down. He pushed one mug towards Sam then he rested his hand on the stock of his shotgun. Sam was frowning at the bag in front of him, reading something on the lap top. Sam glanced over at Dean sat with one hand on his gun, and drinking his coffee with the other. Sam smiled, “Aren’t we being just a little over cautious here?” He worked at the knot keeping the bag closed.  
  
“Hell no, Sam. Look! All you did was brush some plaster dust off the bag and suddenly we had a ghost standing over you, aiming a gun at that shaggy head of yours. So this isn’t being over cautious, it’s just a sensible precaution. Well, what we looking at, Sam? Are we talking a hex bag or what?” Dean nodded towards the bag.  
  
Sam sat back and stopped working on the knot, “No, not a hex bag, more of a medicine bag. They were used in Native American cultures. Usually they were personal, containing spiritual items and totems from a person’s life. But they could also be made for other purposes. According to this website this beadwork is a powerful spell. It’s Cherokee in origin, and the colour of the beads is important. Red denotes success and black is death. Add in the use of a medicine wheel and there is some serious magic at work. Now I just need to get this open.” Sam pulled at the cord one final time, and he whooped in triumph as the bag opened. He looked inside and frowned.  
  
“What’s wrong, Sam? Ain’t there anything in there?” Dean craned his head forward to try and look inside the bag. Sam poured the contents on the table, a small pile of dirt landed on it along with...”Shit! Is that a piece of bone?” Dean looked at the dirt, bone, and dried herbs that now sat on the table in a pile.  
  
Sam licked his lips, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Dean, this is bad. As well as the bead work the spell would have been worked with a drum chant. And if that is dirt from the canyon, and it’s a piece of bone from a warrior....”  
  
Dean sat up straighter, knowing what Sam was about to say. “Shit, Sam, you know what we got here. It has all the ingredients to not only summon a spirit but keep it in place. Someone is summoning the ghosts, I hate to say it. But what’s the betting that the bag you’re holding ain’t the only one in Daryl’s five-star hotel? Just think. Not only do you get cable in your room, but hot and cold running ghosts on tap too.” Dean had yet to look up from the dirt and bone.  
  
“I don’t think I like the odds of you being wrong. I’d be more surprised if this was the only bag. Man, I knew that Amber was desperate to stop Daryl, but to do this? Dean, if those bags are left where they are, after the hotel is finished the ghosts could be summoned at any time. Look, setting up the bags takes all the hard work. After that it’s just a matter of a chant, calling on the ancestors, and making a few offerings. She could call the ghosts at any time. We’re going to have to warn Daryl about this. We don’t have a choice, Dean. We have to tell him about the bags.” Sam rocked back on his seat, frowning as he spoke.  
  
Dean sat, thinking. His gut was telling him there was something off about this, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “That’s gonna be a fun conversation. I can see it now. Hey, Daryl, we’re here to discuss your gaming licence. And by the way, you’re gonna have to rip the plaster off the walls, because Amber’s planted medicine bags inside them, and she is using them to summon ghosts. I gotta admit though, she’s smart. Talk about playing the long game.  
  
I bet she’s got a man on the inside, putting the bags in the walls then she summons them to disrupt the work. But if she was real smart, she’d stop now and wait for the casino to be finished, before summoning them again.” Dean took another drink. It was shame really; he kind of liked Amber, but she couldn’t go around doing stuff like this. Once they’d dealt with the ghosts then he and Sam would have to go and talk to her.  
  
Sam sat and listened and thought about what Dean said. “I see. Wait for the hotel to be opened then start summoning the ghosts again. That would empty the place real quick. I’m pretty sure it would put even the most hardened gambler off his game of blackjack.” He tapped at the table, looking at the bag’s contents.  
  
Dean nodded, “Yeah, it sure would. Then again, some people would love it. Hell, Daryl could sell the whole haunted hotel experience. I’ve said it before, Sammy. Demons I get but people are crazy. Ok then, Sam, how come when you took it apart, we didn’t get a repeat performance of earlier? A visit from our warrior friend?”  
  
Sam looked back at the screen, “The only thing I can think of is we’re too far away from the canyon here. Also if the land has been blessed by a shaman, then it’s still part of ground, sacred to the ghosts. And somehow I doubt the motel falls under that category. Apart from that, I got nothing, Dean; I was half expecting it to appear myself. You know you have to admire Amber; I mean, it takes guts to do what she’s done.” Sam looked up at his brother.  
  
“Why’s that, Sam?” Dean asked, puzzled.  
  
“Well, think about it, Dean. She’s had to go into the canyon and actually disturb the remains of the warriors to get hold of the slithers of bone, and the dirt, from where they are resting.” Sam switched off his lap top; he looked over at Dean who seemed to be lost in thought. “What’s wrong, man? I’d thought you’d be pleased that we’ve gotten to the bottom of how ghosts are appearing.” He wondered what was on Dean’s mind.  
  
“It just doesn’t feel right, Sam. You saw Amber tonight when Daryl accused her of abusing the ancestors - she went ballistic. I just can’t see her grave robbing to get what she wants. The only thing is, I can’t think of anyone else, with either the ability or the knowledge to pull this off.” Dean slid his coffee cup back and forth.  
  
Sam thought about what Dean had just said then inspiration struck, “What about Albert? After all, he is the Shaman; if anyone’s got the power then I think Albert is much more likely to be the one behind it.” Dean still didn’t look convinced, and if Sam was honest, neither was he. It just added to the mystery at the Casino for them to solve.  
  
Dean looked up, “Ok, we have another suspect then, Sam. Although he didn’t seem too happy about the sabotage on site, that Amber and Co. were responsible for. Albert setting ghosts on Daryl and the crew seems way over the top. Look, let’s hit the sack, and talk to Daryl tomorrow at the site. We might want to look into a way to keep the ghosts quiet, while we go bag hunting of a night. How’s your plastering skills?” Dean asked and Sam grinned at him.  
  
The next morning at the site, the boys stood looking around, then Daryl appeared and walked over to them. “Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to the Casino. Please can you put these on?” Daryl was beaming at them, as he handed them two hard hats. They accepted the head gear and slipped them on. When they had gotten up this morning Dean had gone to get breakfast while he left Sam doing research. When he’d gotten back they’d eaten then he’d hit Dad’s journal to find the original appeasement ritual Dad had used before.  
  
While Sam had been searching for something to keep the spirits quiet, Dean had been making a list of everything they would need. Just in case they had to perform the appeasement ritual at the burial ground, if their original idea of clearing out the medicine bags failed. Sam had reported he hadn’t had much luck; it looked like they would have to find where each individual bag was placed. Then deal with one ghost at a time. Neither of them had liked the thought of that, as they had no idea how many bags had been planted. Plus the ghosts would not stand by quietly, while they despatched them.  
  
Now they were walking through the site with Daryl, who was telling them about how magnificent the casino and hotel would be when it was finished. Sam was listening intently and Dean was looking around the site. He was watching the construction when he realised what was bothering him. Why were the ghosts appearing outside, when the bags were sealed inside the walls of the still growing hotel? Dean was sure none of the sightings were inside of the building. How were the ghosts getting out here? Dean stopped and he was trying to figure out this latest part of the puzzle, when he heard Daryl’s voice. “Mr Coverdale, please don’t stand there. You know how dangerous construction sites can be.” Dean turned to face Daryl; he could see Sam looking at him as if to say ‘what’s wrong?’ Dean just smiled.  
  
“Sorry, Mr Gray Bear. I was just watching the work. I just love to see buildings grow, don’t you? So much potential, anything could happen with a new building. You can put your own mark on the place.” Dean saw a quick flicker of disquiet cross Daryl’s face, then his smile returned in full force and he guided Dean back towards Sam.  
  
As they walked, Sam leant into his brother, “You just stopped dead, dude. Did you see something? Because you know we’re naked out here.” Dean knew what Sam meant; they’d decided to leave their weapons in the Impala’s trunk. All Dean had on him was a flask of holy water, which wouldn’t be much use if the whole tribe were suddenly to appear.  
  
“It was just the opposite. It was what I didn’t see, Sam. You told me all the sightings were out in the open. No one has seen anything in the hotel; all the bags are inside, right? How the fuck are the ghosts getting out here? Because we both know they should be tied to the bags.” Sam looked around and realized what Dean was saying was right. Shit, now what were they going to do?  
  
Sam looked over towards the gate, and groaned at what he saw, heading their way like a tornado. “Dean, we got incoming, twelve o’clock.” Dean looked over and, approaching at speed, was Amber, along with several of her friends.  
  
Dean sighed then rolled his neck and shoulders, to try and ease the tension that had begun to build; his body chose that moment to remind him that he still had bruises. Dean flinched slightly and he saw Sam’s face ratchet up to the protective puppy look. He shook his head and winked at his little brother. The last thing he needed was Sam going all ‘House’ on his ass, while he was trying to stop Amber and Daryl killing one another. And just maybe bringing a few ghostly friends along to the party.  
  
“What the hell are you doing here?” Daryl roared, as Amber walked over to them with a smile on her face.  
  
Amber came to halt by Dean; she ignored the now red-faced developer and waved at the construction workers who were gathering on the scaffolding to enjoy the show. “Morning, guys! As it’s Friday, how about a treat when you finish? Come over to the Tavern tonight, and the first beer is on the house.” The men all whistled and applauded, and she looked at Dean and winked at him.  
  
Dean had to admit she had style; it’s damned hard to stay mad at the woman who was a part-owner of the only bar in town, and who’d just offered a round of free beer.  
  
Daryl stood, watching his crew with fists clenched, “What the fuck are you playing at? Offering free beer?” Daryl stepped up close to Amber; he became aware of the fact that Dean had matched his step. That he was ready to intervene if things became physical.  
  
“Why, Daryl, you told me to step into the twenty-first century, and you know you’re right. I think it’s time we buried the hatchet, and what better way than to have your guys over for a beer? And besides, you don’t think they’ll just stop at one, do you? A girl’s gotta eat. Now how about letting us come on the tour and you can show me why this place is so wonderful?” Amber’s smile had grown broader as she spoke.  
  
Dean looked at Sam and smiled, the smile was returned. He watched as the startled Daryl suddenly found himself being escorted through his own construction site, by the woman who was trying to close him down. The brothers fell into step behind them, as Dean listened to Amber talking. He thought Amber wanted to bury the hatchet all right, but she wanted to put it right between Daryl’s shoulder blades.  
  
Then she looked over her shoulder, “Why, gentlemen, you should be walking with us not behind us. This is the first time I’ve ever been inside the site. I felt I should rectify my reticence at visiting. I just wanted to experience the site like you. And be convinced as to why exploiting our heritage, by turning it into a theme park is such a wonderful idea.” Amber’s voice was silky smooth, but it was wrapped around a core of steel-like intent.  
  
Daryl pulled his arm free of Amber’s, “Oh, so now we getting to the bottom of it! I should’ve just called security and had you and your friends thrown off the site. God knows what you’ve got planned. For all I know you’re getting ready to send another truck careering through the site. Once wasn’t enough? Not enough devastation? No one hurt? Come on, Amber, don’t just stand there. Tell me.” He smirked at the irate woman.  
  
Amber bristled at those words and stepped right into Daryl. “Listen to me, you sanctimonious jackass. For the last time, we had nothing to do with that. I’m betting it was one of your guys being negligent, and blaming us.” Amber was just about to get even closer, when Dean rested his hand gently on her arm.  
  
“Please, Miss Moonhaven, Mr Gray Bear. Why don’t you both calm down? Surely we can talk about this calmly.” Both Amber and Daryl shot Dean a scathing look when he spoke to them.  
  
Sam winced. He didn’t envy Dean trying to play peace maker to those two. Then he noticed one of Amber’s friends. When Daryl had been yelling about the truck, they had suddenly looked a little guilty. That guilt had gotten worse, when Amber had proclaimed none of her friends were responsible for what happened. Sam felt like smacking himself around the head. An inside man, of course! The guy knew who the inside man was, and he could’ve let the brakes off the truck. Then planting medicine bags would be child’s play by comparison. Now it was just a matter of trying to figure out who it was, and getting him to tell them where he’d put the bags.  
  
He was just about to tell Dean what had happened when he heard even more commotion; Albert had appeared on site and was making his way over to the two yelling combatants. Sam was impressed with how Dean managed to move out of the way of a low flying elbow from Amber as she continued gesturing animatedly during her row with Daryl.  
  
Albert inserted himself between the two of them, and glared from one to another. “Enough! This has gone on too long now. It’s time for you both to put a stop to this. Amber, take your friends and go home. Daryl, you and I need to talk.” Amber went to speak, but Albert just raised his hand to silence her.  
  
Amber nodded, “Yes, Grandfather. I’ll see you back at the centre.” She turned to leave, and Albert turned to speak to Daryl.  
  
“What can I do for you, Grandfather?” Daryl asked, bowing his head respectfully. At those words, Albert tensed slightly and Amber whirled round.  
  
“Don’t you dare fucking call him that! You don’t have the right to call him that.” Amber stormed over and once again they started arguing - this time they were yelling at each other in another language. Dean watched as Albert raised his eyes skyward in a universal gesture of frustration. He looked down and saw Dean and Sam. He walked over to them. Dean looked back at the arguing couple and then back at Albert. He quirked his eyebrow and gestured towards them with a nod.  
  
Albert waved his hands in a gesture of defeat, “I’d say smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, because now they’ve started on this, they could be at it for hours.” Albert crossed his arms and watched what appeared to be a familiar sight.  
  
“What did Amber mean by Daryl not being able to call you grandfather?” Dean was intrigued by Amber’s reaction to the greeting.  
  
Albert looked at Dean, his eyes full of sorrow, “Not too long ago I had two apprentice Shaman under my wing, so to speak. Amber was one, Daryl was the other. Daryl is naturally gifted, but lacks the patience to unlock his gifts. Then the outside world and the lure of money became too strong, and Daryl walked away from his studies. Amber hates the fact he abandoned me, more than the fact he walked away from her.” Dean was shocked to hear this; Daryl hadn’t seemed the type. In fact if it hadn’t been for his name, Dean would have had Daryl down as your average sharp-suited business guy. All image and no substance, but it just added to Amber’s motives for summoning the ghosts.  
  
Dean was about to tell Sam what Albert had just said, when he noticed that his little brother was no longer by his side. Sam was talking to a couple of Amber’s friends. He seemed to be engrossed, and Dean was just about to speak to Albert again, when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye that caught his attention.  
  
Dean’s head snapped around, and his heart accelerated, suddenly there were more people on the site. Not just people but Great Bear’s warriors. Dean did a rapid count. By his estimation there had to be twenty armed ghosts. “SAMMY!” It was then he realized he wasn’t the only one who had spotted the newcomers. Daryl and Amber had stopped arguing, and were looking at the figures, and Albert went tense beside of him.  
  
Sam looked up at the sound of his brother’s cry. He saw Dean then turned his head to follow where Dean was looking. Sam gasped when he saw the ghosts, standing there silently. It was as if they were waiting for something. Then a final figure appeared. It was the ghost from the night before; he stood taller than the others. He might have been shorter than Dean, but what he lacked in stature his presence more than made up for it. “Oh crap, Great Bear?” Sam hadn’t realized who it had been last night, but now it was obvious who stood at the head of his men.  
  
The stand-off continued and now Daryl and Amber had turned to face the chief. Dean began to edge forward slowly, motioning to Sam to remain exactly where he was. Dean had drawn level with Amber and Daryl; he slid his eyes over to look at them. Daryl was stood there, opened mouthed, muttering something over and over that he couldn’t make out. Amber was holding her medicine pouch again, and she seemed to be chanting. Damnit! Dean had to get to her before she did something stupid - like tell Great Bear and his men to attack.  
  
Sam was ready to move if Dean needed him to - he’d also seen the way Amber was chanting. He decided to move, to try and get level with Dean. He walked slowly towards them from the other side. He was getting closer to Daryl, and he heard him uttering the same words over and over. He was puzzled by that then something made him look over the heads of the ghosts. Some of the construction workers were panicking, getting ready to run.  
  
Dean was just reaching out to touch Amber, when one of the warriors spun around. Sam saw what was happening. He felt helpless to stop what he knew was going to happen. He did the only thing he could, “STAND STILL!” Sam bellowed at the top of his voice, just praying that the men would do as they were told. But seeing the ghostly warriors had proven to be too much for some of the construction crew. One man bolted for the gate, and the warrior who had spun around, raised his rifle and fired. Everyone watched in horror as the running man collapsed, clutching at his leg, blood pouring from between his fingers.  
  
Dean could see the warriors gearing up to attack, “Everyone take cover now! Sam, go and get the guy to safety. Now, Sammy!” The tone in Dean’s voice had Sam sprinting for the fallen man before he even had time to think.  
  
Dean’s mind was racing. How the hell could he distract a bunch of ghost warriors from massacring everyone on site? Judging by the expression on their faces, pissed was an understatement. Dean saw that the construction crew had taken his warning to heart, and now there were bodies diving behind whatever cover they could find. He could hear the sound of ghostly rifles, and the pings of ‘bullets’ as they hit He needed to keep the ghosts’ attention on him, while Sam got the injured man to safety. Dean looked around desperately and then he grinned. Just a couple of feet away was a nail gun. Ok, no salt rounds but nails had iron in them. Dean knew they were screwed, if he couldn’t distract the ghosts long enough for Sam to get that guy under cover.  
  
Dean spun on his heels, and snagged the gun as he sped past, just dodging a ghost bullet. He glanced at the scoring on the wood. Crap! They might be ghosts, but the bullets did real enough damage. It had to be what Sam suggested. This was still sacred ground and the ghosts were still powerful here.  
  
Dean had halted behind an oil drum, took a deep breath, and stood up. He glanced around. Everyone had taken cover except for Amber, who was stood right out in the open, still chanting. Dean swore softly under his breath. Great! Now he had two people to worry about - Sam and Amber. Dean started to run; he just hoped this would work. He ran past Amber and started to fire the nail gun, feeling the gun recoil as the nails fired. The projectiles didn’t have the same velocity as bullets, but they were having the desired effect. There was just enough iron in the nails, to make the ghosts flicker and disperse. Dean was aiming the gun with deadly accuracy. He knew he only had seconds before the ghosts returned and he was in trouble. He could see that Sam had reached the fallen construction worker, and was dragging the man to safety.  
  
Dean threw the gun away and turned to make for cover then he saw Amber was still where he’d left her. “Amber, goddamnit! Get out of there.” Amber was still chanting and she was face to face with the ghost from last night. Dean remembered Great Bear very well. Changing direction he ran towards her. Suddenly a ghost appeared behind her, and raised his rifle. Dean put his head down and ran faster; if he fired at that distance Amber was dead for sure.  
  
When Dean had issued the order for Sam to grab the construction worker, he’d moved on auto pilot, sprinting past the warriors without slowing, knowing that Dean had his back. When’d reached the man he was pale and shaking with pain. Sam slipped his hands beneath the construction worker’s armpits, and dragged him to cover. “Are you ok?” Sam had to ask. He saw the incredulous look on the man’s face. “I know, stupid question. But are you alright?” Sam recognized Norm from last night; he looked shocked.  
  
“What the fuck just happened? They’ve never turned up like that before. How the hell did I get shot?” Norm said through gritted teeth. Sam moved closer and pulled his hands away from the wound. Sam had seen plenty of bullet wounds before. Unfortunately there had been too many of them on Dean for his liking. It was a clean wound and Sam suspected that when it was checked, there would be no bullet in it. Then it hit Sam. Why the leg? These men would’ve been excellent shots; all of them could fire from horseback, and bring down game or even a soldier without any trouble. It was as if they had been following orders. But who had issued them? Amber...it had to be. Sam moved away from Norm. He had to get to Dean and warn him. He stood up just in time to see Dean’s charge with the nail gun. Sam didn’t know whether to applaud him, or strangle him for being so reckless.  
  
Dean was just making for cover, when Sam saw him change direction. He saw the ghost appear and knew exactly what Dean was going to do. Sam began to run towards them. He had to help any way he could.  
  
Dean’s desperate sprint took him past the still figure of Great Bear and he carried on into Amber. As he reached her, he tackled her to the ground. A shot rang out and Dean twisted them both to the side, grunting as he felt something slam into his side. Then he groaned as he and Amber hit the ground.  
  
Sam continued to run. “DEAN!” His shout was full of fear. He’d seen the ghost fire and Dean had jerked as he’d carried Amber to the ground. As suddenly as the ghosts had arrived they were gone. Sam didn’t care about that right at that moment; he had to get to his brother now.  
  
Amber was lying on the ground, stunned. She had no idea what had just happened. It was then she realized there was someone lying half on top of her. She turned her head to see who it was. Damn! It was that idiot, Dean Coverdale. “What the hell? Get off me, you moron. Do you know what you’ve just done?” Amber was wriggling to try and dislodge the large man off her; she swung her elbow sideways into Dean’s ribs and was rewarded with a moan. Amber grinned at that sound - that would teach him. Then Dean was getting off her. Actually his giant of a partner, Sam, was helping him to his feet. He had hold of Dean’s elbows, looking into his eyes with concern. Dean pushed Sam away; he was speaking softly to him.  
  
Dean turned to her and held his hand out, “Do you need any help getting up, Amber?” She smacked the hand away, and started to get up.  
  
Albert appeared by her side and helped her to stand. She stepped away, “Do you know what you’ve just done? You’ve just pissed off one of the most powerful war chiefs ever. That was Great Bear’s spirit. You clattering over here to rescue me has just made matters worse.” Amber put her hands on her hips and glared at Dean.  
  
Dean shrugged his shoulders, and his face paled. Amber noticed that Dean had his left arm pressed tightly to his side. “Sorry about that, Amber, but the next time one of Great Bear’s warriors wants to shoot you, I’ll just ask you politely to move out of the way. I think someone had better get Daryl out from behind the cement truck, and take that guy to hospital.” Amber’s jaw dropped. She spluttered in shock, as Dean turned away and began to walk towards the gate.  
  
Albert watched as Dean and Sam walked away, noticing how Sam hovered protectively by Dean. He could see Dean was hunched over slightly, walking slower than before. Then he heard the sound of Amber’s friends running over to her, “Oh god, Amber, are you alright?....of course we were worried, you got blood on you.”  
  
Amber looked down in shock. Smeared along the left side of her shirt was blood, and there was blood on her elbow where she had hit Dean. She was just about to chase after him, when Albert put his hand on her arm. He shook his head, “Amber, you know what you have to do, and you have to do it tonight.” Amber’s eyes grew large, she bit her lip. Albert could see the fear in her eyes. He wanted to help her so much, to go with her. But in the last few nights, he’d been dream walking. In his dreams he had seen what was to come for Amber. That this was part of her journey onto becoming a Shaman, but he could not go with her. This was her path and she had to walk it without him.  
  
Albert had been shown this by his animal guide, a sleek fox that he’d encountered at the end of his vision quest, that had marked his entry into the world of the shaman. He still wore his totem, the claw of a fox that he’d found at the place where he and his guide had met.  
  
Now he followed what his guide had shown him - that this quest was for Amber alone to complete. But Albert’s heart had been put at ease because he had been shown something else in his dreams. Amber would not be alone. There were going to be two warriors with her. Brothers, and as he looked over to the Impala he saw Sam, guiding his brother, Dean to the passenger side.  
Then Sam stood patiently until Dean handed over the keys. Sam opened the car door and Dean slowly got inside. Albert silently wished them all well, for he knew he had not been shown everything that was to come to pass. But he knew that Amber would be safe in the hands of the young men, who drove away in their sleek black car.  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

The Way of the Warrior Chapter 6  
  
  
The Impala had hardly come to a stop when Dean pushed open the door, gritting his teeth against the jolt of pain that shot across his ribs. He wrapped his right arm round himself and pressed his hand against the left side of his ribs. “Dean, what the fuck? Just wait a minute, will you.” Sam said in a frustrated tone as he watched Dean struggle to get out of the car, opening his own door, ready to follow his brother.  
  
Sam glimpsed the stubborn and determined set to Dean’s features, as he hauled himself out of the car, but even he couldn’t hide the grunt as his abused ribs howled in protest. Dean closed the door without looking back then walked slowly towards the motel.  
  
Sam was muttering under his breath about damn mule-headed morons when he caught up with Dean. He was still reeling from what had happened back on the site. When he’d been running towards Dean, he’d seen the warrior fire as Dean had crashed into Amber. The force of him hitting her had turned her exposed back away from the ghost. But that action had meant Dean had placed himself in the line of fire. Sam’s heart had leapt into his mouth when he saw Dean jerk as the bullet struck him.  
  
By the time he’d reached the prone figure of his brother, Amber had been struggling to get from underneath him. He seen Dean flinch when Amber’s elbow had hit him hard in the ribs then he was by Dean’s side, helping him back to his feet. As he’d held Dean by the elbows, his jacket had moved and he’d caught a glimpse of blood on his shirt. When he looked at Dean, asking silently if he was alright, his brother had pushed away from him.  
  
“Sam, come on, man. We need to get out of here fast, someone is gonna have called the cops. There’s a site full of guys who saw men waving guns. We can’t be here when Five-0 gets here, ok? I’ just gotta do something first.” Sam had watched as Dean had spoken to Amber. Then he started to walk towards the Impala. He quickly fell into step beside his brother, fighting down the urge to help Dean to the car. About now they needed to look as ‘normal’ as possible, but Sam had insisted on driving. When Dean had gotten in the car, he’d automatically wrapped his arm round his ribs and breathed slowly through his nose, clueing Sam in on how much it hurt. The drive back had been silent, both men lost in their own thoughts about what had taken place on the site. Sam was concerned about Dean. The sooner they were back at the motel and he could check his brother was fine, the better.  
  
Now stood outside their room Dean was pale and his forehead beaded with sweat. Sam quickly unlocked the door and guided his brother through it. He closed and locked the door, “On the bed now, dude.” Sam was tearing off his tie and undoing his collar, before stripping off his jacket. He was rolling up his sleeves, when he heard Dean snigger; he turned to see Dean stood by the bed, slowly slipping off his jacket with an expression of intense concentration. Sam knew he was trying not to show how much the movements were hurting him. “What’s so funny, dude?” Sam asked as he grabbed the first-aid kit from his bag. With Dean’s tendency of getting hurt, he always felt more relaxed, knowing he had the kit in easy reach.  
  
“Nothing. Only I have to tell you, Sam, I’m not the kind of boy who puts out on the first date. No matter how tingly I get when you take control.” Dean was smirking as Sam shuddered at the thought of that.  
  
“Hate to tell you, bro, but you’re exactly that kind of boy. I’ve spent enough time in motel rooms waiting for you to come home. Now sit down so I can take a look.” Sam scowled at him and Dean sat down slowly, wincing when his body jolted as he made contact with the bed.  
  
Sam moved in front of him and knelt down. As he opened the kit he could see Dean was taking off his tie. He was just about to undo the buttons on his shirt when Sam produced a pair of scissors and started cutting it.  
  
“Whoa, dude, what the hell? Come on, man, I’ve only got a couple of these damn things. Now you’ve gone and ruined it.” Dean complained as Sam continued to get his shirt off.  
  
“Dean, I don’t know if you noticed the blood, or the bullet hole but I think this shirt is done. I’m pretty sure our budget can run to another Wal-Mart shirt. Now what are you doing?” Sam asked in an exasperated tone, when Dean grimaced as he reached for his jacket.  
  
“I’m just checking for bullet holes in this. Looks like it’s gone through the seam - I can repair that. Damn, that’s good news. At least I don’t have to replace that.” Dean smiled, relieved he wouldn’t be buying a new suit, as well as a shirt. He hated wearing the damn things, and buying them just went against his principles.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, “Oh, that’s wonderful news! You don’t need a new suit but you’ve been shot and you’re bleeding all over the place. But hey, at least you’ve saved us some money.” Sam said through gritted teeth as he continued pulling the remains of the shirt away. He was just about to start on the wife beater beneath when Dean smacked his hand away.  
  
“Lay off the merchandise, dude, I got this. Just what happened out there today? Where the hell did they all come from? God knows how many bags are hidden around that site; I’m telling you, Sam, somebody somewhere loves us. Because those ghosts could’ve wiped all of us out in a minute, if they’d put their minds to it.” Dean gritted his teeth and began to pull at his remaining shirt.  
  
Sam sat back and watched Dean as he struggled to take off his wife beater. He knew his brother would be doing some running repairs to his clothes after this. Yes, he would save the jacket but the wife beater was a complete loss. But Dean could be damn stubborn about things like that. Finally Sam couldn’t take the bitten-off moans any longer as Dean was pulling the tight material over his head. He leant forward and grabbed the ruined material; using the band aid principal he pulled the shirt up and over Dean’s body quickly. For a second he got tangled in the leather cord around Dean’s neck, trying not to strangle Dean with his amulet. Although right about now he was sorely tempted to throttle the stubborn jackass.  
  
“Son of a bitch! For god’s sake, Sammy, warn me you’re gonna do that next time. Anyway you don’t need to worry. It just winged me and it’s stopped bleeding. Just stick some gauze on it and I’m good to go. Man, that was lucky.” Dean’s bravado slipped slightly when Sam gently ran his fingers just under the wound, pressing against bruised flesh, making him hiss.  
  
He hated to admit it but Dean was right in his assessment of his injury. The ghost bullet had ploughed a shallow furrow along his ribs. And it really summed up how screwed up their lives were, when he agreed with Dean about it being lucky he’d only been winged. Otherwise he would’ve been trying to patch up a bullet wound on a motel bed, with dental floss for sutures. It wouldn’t have been the first time Sam had to do that, and sadly it wouldn’t be the last time. Sam sighed softly to himself. Seriously though, did he look like one of those damn doctors in Grey’s Anatomy? He smiled slightly; Dean would’ve probably christened him McBroody. Sam shook his head at the thought. Time to stop wishing life was different, and take a good look at what had happened to Dean this time.  
  
By the looks of it, the wound had bled pretty badly when it had first happened. Sam decided that, judging by the state of Dean’s shirts, but now the graze was only oozing sluggishly. Sam picked up a sterile pad, ripped open the package then reached for the antiseptic. He knew this was going to hurt like a mother. He needed to take Dean’s and his own mind off what he was about to do.  
  
“Why summon them like that? It doesn’t make any sense, to just have them appear then do nothing?” Sam edged a little closer to Dean; he was contemplating how to approach this when Dean lifted his left arm and rested it on Sam’s shoulder, his green eyes fixed intently on the motel wall. Dean tensed slightly, waiting for Sam to start cleaning. He hated to be crowded like this, but he relaxed as his instinctive trust of Sam took over.  
  
Dean shrugged one shoulder, “What worried me was what happened after they appeared. They stood and waited for Great Bear to appear. Did you notice how he seemed to be listening to what Amber was saying? If she is the one summoning them, I don’t get what she was trying to achieve by having them appear like that. And Sam, did you see Amber and Daryl’s faces. We’re talking shock here, Sam....HOLY SHIT!” That exclamation was due to Sam cleaning out the bullet graze. Sam was wiping the area with firm deft touches and Dean gritted his teeth. Sam relaxed when Dean bitched and yelled when he was cleaning out the wound; that meant it was pretty superficial. His brother had a strange inverse reaction to injury, he got a paper cut and you’d think he’d cut his hand off. But a broken arm was shrugged off with, “M’ fine Sammy.” The whingeing meant Dean would be fine. Ok, it couldn’t be much fun getting a bullet graze on top of badly bruised ribs. But all in all, Dean would be his usual pain in the ass self.  
  
“Do you think they would have attacked if Norm hadn’t run?” Sam asked as he cleaned the area around the wound. He frowned at the additional bruising that was appearing. When he’d applied pressure to Dean’s ribs there had been no movement, so at least there was nothing broken.  
  
“Oh, so it was Norm that ran? Not really surprised there. I think the ghost reacted to an enemy, running, and responded to a possible threat. Sam, do you think Great Bear was there to have a little chat with whoever’s been summoning him and his men? Because I got the impression they were there uninvited.” Sam suddenly looked up at Dean, a look of shock on his face. Dean returned the look unblinkingly.  
  
Dean carried on, “I mean, think about it. You said someone would’ve had to disturb their graves to get the pieces of bone. Now that would piss anyone off, but the spirits of men who died in battle to protect their families and tribes? Dude, angry is the understatement of the year. Not to mention as far as we know, there were no bags outside of the hotel. So how did the ghosts get there?” Dean hissed softly as Sam applied some antibiotic cream, breathing through his nose as Sam dressed the wound. Once Sam was finished tapping the dressing in place he relaxed a little.  
  
Wordlessly Sam patted him on the knee then handed Dean a clean T-shirt. Sam waited while he pulled the shirt on, managing to resist the temptation to help Dean on with the shirt. He knew he’d filled his quota of mother henning for the day, now it was time to get back to work as far as Dean was concerned. Sam stood up and closed the first-aid kit, putting it back on top of his bag. Then he sat on the chair by the table and considered what Dean had said. He remembered what Daryl had been doing.  
  
“Dean, did you happen to hear what Amber was saying at all? Maybe we could identify what Chant she was using, and counter act it? Oh and Daryl was saying something over and over.” Sam turned to face the table, reaching for the lap top.  
  
“Sorry, Sam, Amber was speaking way too fast and quiet for me to make out the words. Then everything went to hell and I was a little busy after that.” Dean grimaced in pain behind Sam’s back then shifted on the bed, easing himself back. He pulled the pillow up higher, resting his back against it.  
  
Sam glanced over his shoulder, “Ahh, yes, your little charge. I think we need to have a little talk about that. You keep on pushing your luck like that, and one day it’s gonna run out.” Sam watched as Dean shot him an unrepentant grin; he knew Dean would never change. There had been people in danger on the site, and Dean’s first instinct was to protect them, no matter the cost to him. It still scared him half to death, just how willing Dean was to lay down his life for others, and after Dad’s death it had only gotten worse. Sam knew it was because Dean felt unworthy of the deal Dad had made, but Dean was wrong. There was no one who was more deserving of the second chance he’d been given. But now Sam was terrified that Dean’s lack of self worth would one day lead him to sacrificing everything for another.  
  
Sam turned back to his lap top. There was nothing he could do right now, not while they were on a hunt. But later he and Dean were going to talk and he’d make Dean see sense if it was the last thing he did. Sam opened a site with Cherokee to English translations, repeating the words Daryl had spoken over and over as he typed in the words. Sam sat up, surprised at what he read. He spun around on the chair to face his brother once more, “Dean, I’ve gotten the translation of what Daryl was saying, U ne la gi a da de li se di A yv. It means forgive me. What the hell did he need forgiveness for? Building the casino? Disturbing sacred ground? I don’t get what Daryl meant.” Sam’s face wore a confused expression.  
  
Dean sat forward quickly. He bit his lip as his body flooded with pain when he moved, remembering what Albert had told him. “Sam, I think we got a problem here. When I was talking to Albert he told me that Daryl and Amber had both been training with him. That Daryl was naturally gifted but lacked the patience to continue his studies. Shit, just what we need. We could be dealing with the Native American Anakin Skywalker and by the looks of it he’s using the dark side of the Force.” Dean began to edge his way off the bed, realizing they now had three suspects who could be summoning the ghosts.  
  
“Ok, Dean, tell me why you think Daryl is behind this.” Sam asked in his best Stanford lawyer tone, he needed evidence to discount Amber as the prime suspect.  
  
Dean licked his lips. How to convince Sam? After all his gut was screaming at him it was Daryl, and not Amber behind this. “For a start, Amber said it was her first time on site. Sam, what if Daryl was the one who planted the bags? I know I joked about the whole haunted hotel thing last night, but what if that’s what the damned idiot has got in mind? Look, if he’s willing to set up a whole Disney Pocahontas scene, then maybe he thinks having authentic Native American ghosts on hand will help.” Dean watched Sam think over what he said.  
  
Sam thought about Dean’s argument and produced his counter argument, “How can you be so sure it wasn’t Amber? After all, the ghosts have caused havoc on site, and that benefits her more than Daryl. When I was talking to Amber’s friends, one of them let something slip. I saw how guilty they looked when Daryl accused Amber about the truck; I went over and talked to them. They all but admitted there is an inside man, and I think he let the brake off the truck. They kept saying the truck was only supposed to roll into building materials that had been delivered that day to cause a delay. Only the incline was steeper than they thought. Plus an inside man would be ideally placed to put the bags around the site. As I said, Amber would have done all the hard work already with making the medicine bags. Hiding them then summoning the ghosts is easy after that.” Sam sat back, pleased with his logic.  
  
Dean thought about what Sam had said, and yes, on the face of it he was right. All the evidence pointed Amber’s way, but something still felt off, then a thought struck him. “Sam, you said the ground had to be blessed by a shaman to help make it sacred ground. Making sure the ghosts could appear away from the canyon, right? Well, who better than Daryl? If Amber had been seen wandering around or even if it had been one of her friends, I think security would’ve had them off site in a second. Plus, who else has complete access to the site without raising questions? From what we heard last night, Daryl’s a pretty hands-on boss and is always around. It would be easy for him to keep reinforcing the magic that keeps the warriors in place.” Dean grinned in triumph.  
  
Sam drummed his fingers on the table. Dean was making a hell of an argument for Daryl summoning the ghosts. And he hoped Dean was right, but there was still the fact that Amber was the one with the most to gain from stopping construction. “Dean, perhaps the reason Daryl was shocked to see Great Bear was Amber had summoned him. Don’t forget that she was stood by him both times Great Bear has appeared. And I’ve never seen Daryl with either a totem or a medicine pouch. Whereas Amber wears hers round her neck and she was using it both times.” Sam countered Dean’s gut feeling with logic.  
  
“You’re right there, Sam, unless you count crap taste in ties as a totem. Look! What if all Amber and her friends are guilty of is a little sabotage? Remember, dude, Amber doesn’t really object to the casino, just Daryl’s theme park.” Dean continued with his argument.  
  
“Maybe so, but then again what better way to show Daryl the error of his ways, than to summon Great Bear and his men? It would be the ultimate show of power.” Again Sam pressed his argument for Amber summoning the ghosts, keeping his voice dispassionate.  
  
Dean groaned in frustration. This was getting them nowhere fast; he looked at Sam. Damn! The kid would’ve been one hell of a lawyer. Sam smiled at him, seeing his brother’s impatience. “Look! I’m very fond of Amber and I really don’t want it to be her who is behind this. What I’m trying to say is this. We can’t be certain which one of them is summoning Great Bear and his men. They both have a motive, and they both have the ability. But we don’t know which one of them is behind it. So what’s our next move? Do we go after Amber, or Daryl? But if you’re right about Great Bear and his men turning up without being summoned, then we have a whole new ball game. One that means whoever is summoning the ghosts is losing what little control they have over them.” Sam stopped speaking and waited to hear what Dean had to say.  
  
Dean eased himself further back on the bed and sat, thinking. Sam was right; they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure which one out of Daryl and Amber were behind the summoning. Dean made his decision, “Well, I suppose we could go and interview both of them again, but after what happened on site today I think we have more pressing problems. The ghosts are turning violent, Sam. If we wait around and try and figure out who is behind it, then someone is gonna get hurt and hurt badly. I say we hit the canyon tonight and perform the appeasement ritual. It should buy us enough time to figure out who’s behind it all and deal with ‘em.” As he spoke he looked over at his brother to see if Sam agreed with his plan.  
  
Sam nodded in agreement. They had a plan in place and it was time to get to work on it. “Ok, I’ll see what we need to perform the ritual...and where the hell do you think you’re going? Dean, for pity’s sake just lay still, will you.” As Sam had been speaking, he’d noticed that Dean was moving toward the end of the bed once more.  
  
Dean waved a dismissive hand at his brother as he got off the bed; he stood slowly, his arm wrapped round himself once more in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort in his ribs. He walked carefully to the table where he left Dad’s journal, “Here you go, Sammy. While you were researching this morning I found the entry concerning the last appeasement ritual in Dad’s journal. We’ve got most of what we need; I made a list of the other stuff. It should be relatively easy to get the rest. Come on, then, we got work to do. I think we should go out of town for this stuff. We don’t want anyone to clue either Amber or Daryl in on what we’re doing.” Dean stopped speaking and leant forward, he felt shaky. But he didn’t have time to rest; they were in the middle of a hunt. Sam stood up in one easy motion, took the paper from Dean’s fingers and slipped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. He guided Dean back towards the bed, ignoring the grumbled protests from him as he tried to get away, but Sam just tightened his grip.  
  
“Dean, please just take it easy. I can get the rest of the herbs and stuff; you try and get some rest. You know we’re gonna be having a late night, and I’ll need you to provide me with back-up while I perform the ritual. Now I’ll just get changed then I’ll head out.” Sam gently pushed Dean onto the bed, turned away and began to strip out of the rest of his suit. While he changed Sam was thinking about the ritual later. By rights it should be simple. There was no need for the two of them to go; he’d have to wait for the moon to rise as per Bobby’s instructions. Then he spotted the first-aid kit and he had an idea. He opened it slowly, and grabbed what he was searching for. He slipped it in his pocket. Now hopefully, he could ensure Dean would be out for the count. In fact, he was about to make sure of it.  
  
Sam turned back to see Dean lying down. The crease between his eyebrows was back again, as he struggled with his aches and pains. “Hey Dean, would you like a cup of coffee before I go?” Sam moved casually to the counter and the mugs. As he made the drink Sam slipped the capsule he was carrying into the hot liquid. He felt guilty but Dean needed to rest - after all, he was hurt. And he knew that Dean would go perform the ritual with him, to watch his back.  
  
But he was capable of doing this alone, damn it, and it was time for Dean to let him grow up and prove that he was as good a hunter as he was. Sam finished stirring the coffee knowing the powerful painkiller would keep his brother safely in bed, so he took it over to him.  
  
Dean lay with his eyes closed, his breathing slow and controlled, relaxing as best he could. His left side was on fire, but he could live with it. He’d dealt with worse before and he would again. Now all that would happen was he would lie here and stiffen up. But if it made Sam happy....Speaking of Sammy, Dean opened his eyes. He spotted his little brother stood by the bed holding a mug of coffee. Dean grunted in greeting then said, “Put it down there, thanks Sam. I’ll drink it in a minute, you better get going. The next town is twenty miles away, and we need those supplies today. By the way, Sam, don’t forget to bring us some food for later. We can’t hunt on an empty stomach.” Dean gave his little brother a mischievous smile and a wink.  
  
Sam turned towards the door, checking he had his wallet. Just as he reached it he heard a sound. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Dean picking up the mug. Good, he could relax. Pretty soon Dean would be safely asleep, and he’d be able to do this without worrying about him.  
  
  
  
Sam returned to the motel room several hours later, having gotten everything on Dean’s list. The hardest thing to get hold of had been the drum, but he’d managed it. He turned the key in the door and stepped inside. “Dean?” Sam called out softly; he was answered by the sound of soft snoring. Sam smiled and walked over to the bed. He checked the mug and saw it was empty, “Sorry, Dean, but you really need to sit this one out.” Sam turned and walked over to the table, and sorted through what he’d bought for the ritual. Satisfied that everything was there, he picked up the duffle and began to load it, ready for later.  
  
He was concentrating so hard, he never noticed Dean opening his eyes. Dean smiled at the back of his brother’s head. He’d known from the second Sam had made him the coffee, exactly what Francis had done. Sam wasn’t as stealthy as he thought he was. He’d seen the pill bottle in the first-aid kit and he’d been ready when Sam had brought the coffee. Dean had taken a drink, and after Sam had left he’d got up and thrown the coffee down the sink. Then he’d gone back and lay down, getting what rest he could. Now he got up, cursing to himself when his stiff muscles twinged and ached and his ribs felt as if they were on fire. Taking a shallow breath, Dean managed to straighten up, and took the few steps to where his brother stood. By the time he’d reached Sam, the natural swagger he carried himself with was back. He rounded the table to watch what Sam was doing. Sam’s head snapped up suddenly, and he looked at his brother with shock and comically wide eyes.  
  
“Hey, Sam, how’s it goin’? Looks like you got everything we need for tonight. By the way that was an awesome cup of coffee, sent me right to sleep. I feel refreshed and ready to go. Something the matter, Sammy?” Dean asked his dumbstruck brother; he leant forward and patted him on the shoulder. “Now don’t look like that, Sammy. I appreciate the thought, but there is no way you’re doing this alone. I get the feeling that Great Bear is just getting started, and I don’t want you doing this without back-up.” Although he was smiling as he spoke, Dean’s tone made it clear there’d be no argument.  
  
Sam stood up straight and glowered at his smirking brother, “Damnit, Dean, stop treating me like a kid. I can handle this. And you’re not at the top of your game right about now, and Great Bear’s got...” Sam stopped, going red with the thought of what he’d been about to say about the War Chief. The way he looked at Dean last night still played on his mind, and on the site today the chief had been the last ghost to vanish. When Sam had reached his brother the ghostly figure had remained, watching them, and once again there had been the same assessing look in his eyes. Sam had felt that Dean had made quite the impression on the Chief, and he really didn’t want Dean to have to face him again.  
  
Dean quirked an eyebrow at his younger brother “Great Bear’s got what, Sam? Come on, dude, if your spidey sense is tingling I need to know now.” Dean folded his arms and looked at him expectantly.  
  
Sam licked his lips. What could he say to Dean? He could just imagine Dean’s response to his gut feeling that his big brother was measuring up to the Chief’s standards as an adversary. Dean would take it as a compliment then do his very best to goad the ghost into going after him. Especially if he thought Sam was in danger during the appeasement ritual.  
  
Dean could see Sam weighing up what he was going to say. He knew what was on his mind - the challenge Great Bear had issued him last night. Sam was afraid if the ghost appeared and did it again, Dean would accept the challenge. “Come on, Sammy, so I got the stink eye off Great Bear, so what? It’s nice to know I got admirers. What can I say? When you’re hot you’re hot. Look, Sam, I appreciate what you were trying to do, but dude, if you’re gonna knock me out every time I upset some damn spook, I’m gonna end up like Sleeping Beauty and you are not kissing me awake....that’s Angelina Jolie’s gig. Listen, how about I do the ritual, and you watch my back? Will you be happier then?” He offered the compromise with an air of sincerity.  
  
Sam slumped in defeat. Dean was going to do this no matter what he thought. But at least he could protect Dean while he performed the ritual; he could live with that.  
  
Dean could tell when Sam had given in; there had been a slight lowering of the shoulders. Now all he had to do when they reached the canyon was tell Sam he couldn’t read Dad’s chicken scrawl, and he’d watch over Sam while he did the chanting. “Ok, we good then? What did you bring to eat, Sammy, I’m starving? I’ll just hit the head and get cleaned up.” Dean moved towards the bathroom, looked back and watched as Sam put the duffle on the floor. Then he got several bags of take-away out, and started to open them.  
  
Dean smiled as Sam busied himself. Now all he had to do was make it through the rest of the day without getting even more banged up. As long as they remained outside the canyon they would be fine. Then they could deal with whichever idiot had started the whole mess in the first place.  
  
When Dean returned from the bathroom, Sam noticed he’d gotten changed into his jeans and had added extra shirts. Sam felt a little more relaxed, but he was still worried about his brother. Dean really needed to be resting, not dragging himself out in the desert in the middle of the night. But he was fighting against years of John Winchester training and commandments, which included “Thou shalt not leave a hunt unfinished, even if you are bleeding to death, and one arm is hanging off.” Sam had been witness to Dean attempting exactly that kind of thing on more than one occasion. And each time, it had reduced his life expectancy by around ten years; at this rate he’d never see forty.  
  
Now Dean sat opposite him, smiling happily at the food, “Great Chinese! Sam, you’re a life saver, pass the rice, would ya?” Sam watched as the older man demolished his food, listening to the happy moans of joy, as he crunched his way through an order of ribs. Finally they finished eating, and Dean sat back with a smile on his face. Sam stood up and cleaned away the empty cartons.  
  
“Dean, do you want to go and have a lie down? We still got a few hours before we need to be at the canyon.” Sam voiced his concern, as Dean shifted in his chair subtly attempting to ease the discomfort he was in.  
  
Dean shook his head, “No thanks, Sammy. I got to run a weapons check and besides, I’m not a hundred percent sure you won’t try to sneak out, and leave my poor little wounded ass behind.” Dean grinned and Sam returned the smile. He should’ve known better than to try and ditch his brother. Now all he could do was try and make sure Dean came back to the room in the same state as he left it.  
  
The next couple of hours passed with the two men working on the hunt. Dean checked and re-checked the shotguns and packed extra salt cartridges in the bag. He also loaded spare clips for their hand guns, and sharpened a couple of knives. While Dean worked, Sam ran through the ritual with him, telling him when to put the offerings on the fire. Warning him at one point, “Dean, just remember the drum rhythm needs to be in time with your heartbeat, not a Metallica drum solo, alright, Lars?” Dean had pouted at that but nodded.  
  
Finally there was nothing left to go over, and the usual nervous energy began to seep into Dean’s aching bones. He could feel the zip of adrenaline coursing through his system, it never failed to excite him. Every hunt was a chance for him to make sure another family didn’t have to suffer the devastating losses that he and Sam had endured. Now he and Sam were getting ready to face down a tribe of angry ghosts. He knew he had to be at his sharpest. The ghosts had already proved they could be deadly, and now he was going to be guarding Sam while he sent them to their rest. In his mind Dean didn’t even acknowledge the danger to himself - he was focused on protecting his little brother, and if it meant he had to tangle with Great Bear again then he was fine with that.  
  
Sam was gearing up for the hunt, watching Dean closely. He could see his brother getting ready to go into battle. Dean was always moving. He fidgeted and tapped pens, almost the poster boy for perpetual motion. Until it came to the moments before a hunt ,and then it was as if Dean pulled all that excess energy within himself, arming himself, ready for whatever they were going to face. Dean would go completely still and Sam used those moments to ground himself. He drew his own readiness from Dean. He’d always been able to feel the energy that flowed through Dean as he got ready to hunt. Dean was always frenetic movement then came the calm, the sense of purpose, and clarity he viewed the world with. Dean saw the world in black and white and on a hunt there was no room for shades of gray.  
  
In another time, Sam had thought that Dean would have worn armour and rode a black horse, galloping to the rescue. Now this very different kind of knight rode to the rescue in a muscle car, his armour a battered leather jacket. Sam felt his own sense of calm sweep over him; they were ready.  
  
Sam looked over at Dean. The once perfectly still figure shifted, raising his eyes to meet his brother’s. As one they stood up. Sam picked up the bags and they walked to the door. They went through and Dean turned off the light.  
  
  
They drove without speaking - the only sound was a tape, playing softly. Dean hummed along with the familiar and soothing sounds of Plant and Paige. Sam shuffled slightly; he was nervous. They were about to take on numerous ghosts. He wasn’t sure the appeasement ritual would be enough to hold them. But for now it was all they had.  
  
“Sammy, are you alright? I don’t remember putting itching powder in your boxers again. And what have I told you about leaving those midget pole dancers alone?” Dean glanced over and grinned, Sam just shot him a dirty look.  
  
Sam kept a close watch on the roads; they were deserted and he hoped that it would continue like that. They passed the construction site, and Sam felt the thrill of nerves once again. He took a steadying breath, they were nearly there. Finally they had gotten as close as they could by car. Now the rest of the journey was on foot.  
  
“What the hell?” Sam exclaimed. They had arrived, expecting to be the only vehicle parked there. Instead, there was a new Mercedes and two trucks. Dean put the brakes on and turned off the engine.  
  
Dean sat with his hands on the steering wheel, “Ok, that’s unexpected. Come on, Sam, we need to find out what’s going on out here.” They opened the doors, got out and walked around to the trunk. Sam went to pick up both bags; Dean reached out and put his hand on the handles of the one with the weapons in. “No, Sam, you need one hand to carry your flashlight. We ready?” Sam nodded and they set off for the canyon.  
  
As they walked they scanned the darkened area. They were miles from the town, and even the construction site was over a mile away and empty for the weekend. They were on their own out here, and as they picked their way over the uneven and rough ground, Sam couldn’t help the sense of foreboding that grew in his gut. Dean turned off his flashlight suddenly, and Sam paid attention to what his brother was doing, also turning off his flash light. Sam turned to see what Dean was looking at, and he surprised at what he saw.  
  
In a clearing, just in front of the mouth of the canyon was a large fire, with figures around it. Dean started to walk forward again and Sam fell into step beside him. As they got closer they made out who it was. Stood, arguing as usual, were Amber and Daryl. Beside them were the three friends who had accompanied Amber to the site, and Sam noted there were three other young women with them.  
  
“Son of a bitch! Hey, Sam, do you think our friends had the same idea as us?” Dean motioned to the two large hold-alls on the floor by the two combatants.  
  
“This just keeps getting better. Dean, we need to get these people out of here. For all we know, Amber’s here to summon more ghosts and Daryl’s trying to stop her. This is going to get ugly.” As Sam spoke Dean suddenly strode forward; he could see the gleam of anger in Dean’s eyes. Sam jogged to catch up. He wondered if he’d have to protect Amber and Daryl from Dean, judging by the expression on his face.  
  
They reached the fire and Dean came to a halt between Amber and Daryl. He stood there silently until they realized they were no longer alone. They turned to look at him; Dean gave them a cold smile and said by way of greeting, “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”  
  



	8. Chapter 8

The Way of the warrior, chapter 7.  
  
  
  
“Is this a private party or can anyone join in?” Dean’s quiet words appeared to shock Amber back to the real world. “What the hell are you doing here? You need to get out of here right now, Mr Coverdale. This doesn’t concern you or the Gaming Committee.” Amber spoke harshly, and she sneered when mentioning the Gaming Committee.  
  
Dean hefted the bag on his shoulder; its weight was beginning to put strain on his ribs. He eased it off his shoulder and put it down on the ground, sighing in relief as the weight lifted. He still had his hand gun tucked in the back of his jeans. Its bullets might not slow Great Bear down, but at least he wasn’t completely naked out here. He saw Sam moving out the corner of his eye. His little brother moved so he was just behind him and to his left, leaving his right side clear, in case he needed to reach for his weapon.  
  
“Now, Amber, that’s not a very friendly attitude, considering that this looks like a fun way to spend an evening. You know, with friends and the spirits of your ancestors. Of course, the party could become livelier, since someone here’s been summoning them from their well-earned rest. And you never know, they might want to join in the fun.” Dean watched with satisfaction as both Amber and Daryl looked shocked at his words.  
  
Dean walked a little closer to Amber and kicked at the bag by her feet, “Now I’m not normally a gambling man. But in the spirit of being near a casino, I wonder what the odds would be on yours and Daryl’s bags containing a drum, some herbs, and a few bowls. And further, what are the odds on you two being here to perform the same ritual?” Dean took his eyes off Amber, and looked over at Daryl and the bag by his feet.  
  
Dean walked back to where he started from, “What? Don’t you want to take that bet, Daryl? Good move. Now the smart money is on Amber being the one who summoned the ghosts. Just ask Sam. That boy has the brain the size of a planet, and he swears by all his logic and lawyerly education, that Amber and her merry band of protesters are using the ghosts of the ancestors to put a spanner in Daryl’s works.  
  
But I’ve never been one to bet with the house. I tend to go with my gut, and my gut is telling me that Daryl decided to add a little supernatural twist to room service. How am I doing so far, guys? I’d love to have your input into my ideas.” Dean stopped speaking, watching the two of them closely to see what their reaction would be to his accusation. Amber seemed stunned by what he was saying. Daryl, on the other hand, had the same look of disquiet on his face that Dean had seen earlier at the site.  
  
Sam was viewing the unfolding drama with interest, as he watched their reactions. It seemed that Dean’s gut was beating his logical arguments concerning Amber, hands down so far, and he was happy about it. Amber’s shock seemed genuine, and Daryl was looking increasingly guilty; he was enjoying watching Dean at work. He tended to forget at times just how perceptive Dean could be.  
  
Now Dean was prowling back and forth again. He knew the argument between Amber and Daryl had something to do with them both being there. “Now, as I was saying about your bags, I think you’re both here to perform an appeasement ritual, just to help send Great Bear and his guys back to sleep. But I wonder just how happy they will be when they see the person who came into the canyon and desecrated their graves. As a matter of interest, just how many of those medicine bags with bones from the warriors are concealed inside the hotel walls?” Dean waited patiently; he knew that if he was right then Amber would react to what he’d said about the graves being desecrated.  
  
Dean didn’t have to wait long. Amber lunged forwards and grabbed Daryl by the jacket, “You stupid goddamn moron! What the fuck did you think you were playing at! This is sacred ground; the canyon is left in peace. Only our shamans enter to perform rituals of appeasement and thanksgiving to those who sacrificed their lives, and you go digging around. Jesus, Daryl, I knew you were stupid and that damn casino means everything to you but this.....” Amber’s voice faded away as she tried to take in what was happening.  
  
Dean looked over his shoulder and winked at Sam. At least the mystery of who was summoning the ghosts had finally been solved. They could get to the bottom of why later. That was after they’d gotten everyone clear, and performed the ritual themselves.  
  
Sam had been looking around the clearing while Dean had been talking, and so far everything was quiet. Amber’s three friends and by the looks of it, girlfriends, were stood, huddled together. They’d looked terrified when Dean had mentioned just how angry the ghosts would be at being disturbed. Sam shook his head in disbelief. Who the hell brings their girlfriends to an appeasement ritual?  
  
Daryl had managed to pull himself together now; he grabbed hold of Amber’s wrists and pulled her free of his jacket. “You don’t understand, Amber! I did it for the tribe! We needed an edge to make the casino successful. We have to stand out. Just think of all the good the money will do for the town.” Daryl pleaded with her to understand why he’d summoned the ghosts to come to their aid.  
  
Sam felt a shiver run down his spine and his ‘spidey sense’ as Dean called it, kicked in. He could see nothing, but he felt a change in the air, a metallic tang of electricity on his tongue as if a storm was coming. He reached out and caught hold of Dean’s sleeve to get his attention.  
  
Dean, who’d been enjoying the entertainment turned to look at his brother and saw the expression of worry on his face. Without hesitation Dean knelt by his bag, unzipped it, and threw Sam his shotgun. He got his own gun and stood up. The sound of Dean moving broke the spell that held Daryl and Amber in thrall. She looked at them incredulously. “What good will those do? Typical! The first thing guys do is reach for a gun. You’re facing the spirits of powerful warriors. What are you gonna do? Fill ‘em full of lead?” Amber shook her head in vexation.  
  
Dean moved closer to her, “No, I’m going to fill them full of rock salt. It really puts a kink in a ghost’s day. Now you, Daryl, and your friends are getting out of here now. Then me an’ Sammy will deal with this. Hopefully Great Bear won’t be too pissed at us, and he’ll let us complete the ritual. Now go, Amber. Sammy, get your ass in gear and start drumming.” Dean was looking around the darkened desert to see if he could catch the flickering that heralded a ghost’s appearance.  
  
“Dean, I thought we agreed you were doing the ritual, and I was watching your back.” Sam said through gritted teeth, as Dean was attempting to get everyone moving.  
  
“Change of plans, Sam. Now get your ass down on that blanket and drum your damn heart out...Listen, Amber, as much as I enjoy your company, you really need to leave right the hell now.” Dean’s tone had turned deadly serious. Amber’s friends turned to leave then Daryl picked up his bag and turned to follow them.  
  
Amber just stood her ground, “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here. Just look at you both. Who do you think you are....the Ghostbusters? These are my people and I’ll be the one who deals with them.” She stood with a determined look on her face. Dean rolled his eyes and looked at Sam.  
  
Sam nodded and started to get ready for the ritual. He could be stubborn but this was not the time to dig his heels in. He knew that the sooner the ritual was started, the better chance they had of stopping the ghosts. Sam dropped to his knees, opened his bag and began to empty out the contents.  
  
Amber watched in surprise as Sam pulled out the right ingredients, and set up the bowls with the offerings. She turned to Dean who just stepped closer and spoke to her. “Yeah, that’s us, the Ghostbusters. Unfortunately we had to leave our nuclear accelerators at home, and we’re down to shotguns. Now we may not be shaman, but this is what we do, Amber. We’re hunters, only we don’t hunt cute little furry critters. The critters we go after tend to be un-dead and usually have much bigger teeth and claws. We heard about your little ghost problem and decided to come and take a look. Now unless you want me to sling you over my shoulder, and carry you to your damn car, you need to get out of here. You saw what happened on the construction site today, you could get hurt. I’m gonna have enough to worry about watching Sam’s back without you and your friends being here.” Dean was praying that Amber would get the message, and get out of there. No way was he carrying her back to the car, despite what he’d said. Perhaps if he asked Daryl, he would do that for him.  
  
Daryl stepped closer to her, “Come on, Amber, he’s right. We need to get out of here and let them get on with it.” He sounded nervous as he spoke, glancing around as if he was expecting Great Bear to suddenly appear.  
  
Amber turned and looked at Daryl with disgust. “You started all of this, Daryl, and now you’re just gonna run and leave these two to face Great Bear and his men? You shame your ancestor, Daryl. You shouldn’t even share his name in any form.” Amber glared at him angrily.  
  
Dean had been walking away when he heard that; he spun around and ran back, “What do you mean by that, Amber? Is there something we don’t know?” Dean was starting to feel as if they should all get out of there as this was rapidly turning into a disaster.  
  
“Oh, nothing too important, just that Daryl is a direct descendant of Great Bear. He is the Great, great grandson of the chief. The name changed over time, and that’s why I’m gonna kill Daryl, first chance I get, for being so damn stupid.” Amber looked at Dean, noticing he seemed to be trying his hardest not to point his shotgun at Daryl.  
  
Sam had just been getting ready to begin the chanting when he heard that. Suddenly he leapt to his feet and ran over to them. “Sammy, what the fuck? What about the ritual?” Dean yelled at his brother. Sam grabbed Daryl by the arms and spun him around to face him.  
  
“Daryl, when you summoned the ghosts, please tell me you didn’t end the ritual with your blood....?” Sam’s eyes were filled with fear at the prospect, and he heard Amber’s sharp intake of breath.  
  
“I take it that’s a bad thing, and why do I think I know what the answers gonna be?” Sam heard Dean’s soft words, and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew.  
  
Daryl licked his lips, went to speak, but his voice failed him. Instead he nodded and lowered his eyes to the ground. Sam let go of him and dragged his fingers through his hair; he turned to Dean, “We’ve got to get out of here now! The blood binds Daryl and the ghosts together. This appeasement ritual won’t work, Dean. We’re gonna need something much more powerful.” There was an urgent note to his voice.  
  
Dean heard the sound of his voice and the look on Sam’s face and knew they were in trouble. Then he felt the air around them thicken and charge with electricity like a storm was coming. Dean knew what that storm was. There was no time to be nice so he issued an order. “Go! Get Daryl away from here now! Sammy, we’re gonna cover them, so they get clear. Don’t just stand there, Amber, RUN!” Dean roared the words and raised his shotgun, ready.  
  
Amber took hold of Daryl’s arm and started to run. They had only gone a few steps when she saw figures appearing. Her heart began to race, her friends were surrounded and so were they. She turned in a slow circle. More warriors appeared, and she gripped Daryl’s hand tightly.  
  
She looked over to where Sam and Dean were standing side by side with their shotguns raised, ready to fight and protect them. “Dean, Sam, I’m sorry but I don’t think we’re going to make it.” Her voice shook with fear.  
  
Sam turned around and saw what was happening behind them. He slowly lowered his shotgun, placing his hand on Dean’s arm. Dean had been preparing to go out fighting; he’d calculated how long they could hold the ghosts off. He knew they could get Amber clear, and hopefully she’d be able to deal with Daryl’s stupidity, then he heard Amber call out. Dean felt a swell of defiance. No way was he letting any of these civilians get hurt on his watch. Then Great Bear had appeared and he started to squeeze the trigger to take him out. Just as he did that, Sam had touched his arm. Dean didn’t need to turn his head to realize what had happened. He weighed his options. He could shoot Great Bear and get everyone killed, or he could lower his gun and do his damnedest to keep them all safe. Dean straightened his back, ignoring the pain in his side and dropped his gun. Sam did the same and both men raised their hands.  
  
Amber, Daryl and the others were brought back to stand by them. Dean looked around; there had to be over fifty warriors standing in the desert with them. Dean squared his shoulders and lifted his eyes to meet Great Bear’s. Again the hunter and the ghost looked at one another. Dean refused to back down to the chief. He knew the warrior had issued a challenge and, if he backed down now, then they were all screwed. Dean smirked at the ghost, “I take it you didn’t like the snacks we brought to the party. How about we go back to town and get something else?” His tone was cocky and he heard Sam groan softly, and Amber just gasped.  
  
One of the warriors stepped forward, and the next thing Dean knew was there was the butt of a rifle being smashed into the right side of his ribs. “Son of a bitch!” Dean bent over, winded; Sam helped him up, looking worried. Dean just grinned at him, “Look on the bright side, Sammy. At least it wasn’t the left side.” He gave his brother a slightly pained grin.  
  
Sam just rolled his eyes and restrained himself from strangling Dean. Amber stepped forward and addressed the ghosts in Cherokee. Great Bear raised his hand, forcing Amber to stop talking. He motioned to the bags on the floor, and Sam moved slowly forward, loaded the contents back inside and picked up the bags.  
  
  
  
Great Bear spoke and Amber translated, “We’re to follow them. They’re taking us inside the canyon.” She started to walk forward and she spoke to Dean, “Do me a favour. Cut out some of the jokes, that was just a warning.” Her warning made Dean smile and wink at her, and Amber couldn’t help but smile back, shaking her head.  
  
They were moved in single file as they were being escorted. Sam noticed the ghosts were becoming even more solid in appearance as they neared the mouth of the canyon. Dean leaned closer to Sam and whispered, “Dude, why do I get the feeling we ain’t in Kansas anymore?” Sam knew what Dean meant - with every step the ghosts had become denser. Now as they were led inside the canyon, they were as solid as himself and Dean.  
  
Sam knew this was bad news; this place was sacred ground to the people of the tribes. Blood had been shed here, the very ground had been soaked with it. Sam knew that while they were inside the canyon they might as well be back when Great Bear and his men were still alive. As Dean said, they weren’t in Kansas anymore. They were on the Trail of Tears and these ghosts had every right to be angry with them.  
  
They were herded towards the centre of the canyon then were moved away from the narrowed entrance and waited as Great Bear walked past them with his warriors. Dean glanced round the clearing, he was impressed...a little worried but impressed. It was as if Great Bear and his men were still fighting Captain Stoneman. There were small camp fires dotted everywhere with groups of people sat around them. There were men and women and Dean remembered Sam telling him that some of the women had gone with the warriors. Then Dean was startled by a sound - the soft whinny of a horse. He looked at Sam, seeing his brother react in shock to the sound, as he realized the mounts of the warriors were stood, waiting patiently for their riders.  
  
Dean looked at Sam, “What the fuck, dude? How the hell are they doing this? Crap, Sam! We are so screwed. I don’t know how we’re gonna get everybody out of here.” Dean sounded worried, unable to see a way out.  
  
Sam just nodded in agreement, as he kept looking round the canyon, taking in the sights and sounds. Then he turned his attention to the others with them. He could see the mounting panic and fear in their eyes, and he couldn’t blame them. The only calm person was Amber; Sam motioned to her to come closer.  
  
Amber walked over to them, her face serious. She seemed subdued, and Sam reached out, pulling her closer. “Amber, this is well above my pay grade here, but I’ve never seen ghosts like this. It’s as if we’ve stepped back in time. What the hell is going on here?”” Sam’s urgent words brought Dean to stand with them.  
  
Amber wrapped her arms round herself as if she was cold, but the canyon was warm. The heat from the ghostly fires was keeping the chill at bay, “There’s a reason why we still perform rituals for the ancestors here. It’s to honour a promise made by Great Bear and his men as they went into battle, they made a vow before all the spirits that protect us. They would protect this place and the people here, no matter what - that if they were ever needed again they would come if they were called. I’d say Daryl has managed to invoke that promise.” Amber told the brothers this news softly, and Sam felt the world tilt beneath his feet. God, this was getting worse and worse.  
  
Dean drew in a shaky breath. We’re talking the Native American version of King Arthur and his knights here, right?” Sam looked puzzled, and Dean carried on. “When Arthur was mortally injured in his last battle, he was carried off to Avalon. He promised that one day he and his knights would return if ever England was in grave danger. Instead of the once and future King we’ve got the once and future War Chief! And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse. Hey, you ok there, Sammy?” Dean asked his stunned little brother.  
  
Sam was still reeling from the shock that his brother even knew who King Arthur was, let alone knowing about the promise Arthur had made to his people. If Dean was right in his assessment, then Great Bear was even more powerful than they first thought.  
  
Amber shrugged her shoulders, “I’d say that about sums it up. Now what do we do, guys? Because I’m kinda out of ideas here.” Amber looked at the brothers, hoping they had some answers for her.  
  
Before Sam and Dean could speak, they were moved back to join the rest of the group and a warrior gestured to the floor. Amber immediately sat down and the rest of them followed. Dean and Sam moved closer to Amber, knowing her ability as both a translator and a Shaman would prove invaluable to them.  
  
Over by the largest fire Great Bear and some of his warriors stood. Sam nodded towards the gathering. “What’s going on now, Amber?” They watched as a warrior began to talk heatedly to the group, his arms waving. Occasionally he pointed and glared angrily at them.  
  
Dean bit his lip; he didn’t need a translator to understand the gist of what was happening. It looked as if the ghosts were holding some sort of council and they were the main topic of discussion. After the first warrior finished, he stepped back and another took his place. Dimly he became aware of Amber explaining what was happening to Sam, that it wasn’t just a council but a form of trial. And by the sounds of the angry voices, the prosecution was putting forward a great case. Then he began to focus on what Amber was saying.  
  
“The warriors are putting forward what they think should happen to us. They will vote but ultimately the decision lies with Great Bear, but he has to take into account the will of the tribe.....oh God, no!” Sam startled at Amber’s exclamation, he watched as her face filled with horror. From behind them came several gasps and the small group tensed.  
  
Sam touched Amber’s arm, “What’s happening, Amber? We need to know now.” Sam noticed the fear on Amber’s face.  
  
“They’re talking about killing us because we disturbed them from their rest. They’re saying we should pay for what we’ve done. Hang on. Now this warrior is suggesting that they only need to execute the one who summoned them. Oh god, no! Please, not Daryl.” As Amber spoke her voice filled with distress; they heard a moan of terror from Daryl. Then Sam and Dean heard the sound of scrabbling. Dean knew exactly what Daryl was doing.  
  
“Sammy, we gotta stop him.” Dean’s voice rang out sharply. Sam was already moving to try and stop Daryl from running. But he was just too slow. Daryl sprang to his feet and started to run for the mouth of the canyon. Dean leapt to his feet, “DARYL! For god’s sake, stop.” He shouted desperately after the fleeing man. He spun back around to see the warriors, raising their weapons ready to bring Daryl down.  
  
Dean took a deep breath and put himself in the line of fire, “Amber, tell them not to shoot. Sam, go and get him now.” Dean remained where he was, watching the warriors closely. Sam looked at Dean, worried for his brother, “Sammy, I said go! Just no sudden moves, alright?” Dean’s voice was low and authoritative. Just as Sam started to move a shot rang out, and Daryl fell.  
  
Great Bear shouted something at his warriors, and they lowered their weapons. Dean swallowed hard. “Sam, get over there now and bring Daryl back. Christ, I hope he’s ok.” Dean never took his eyes off the chief, continuing to use his own body to shield Sam, waiting nervously as Sam walked away. If any of the warriors tried to fire, then he would do his best to get in the way to help Sam.  
  
As Sam moved towards Daryl, he felt a prickling sensation run down his spine, knowing there were numerous guns pointing at him, as he fought down the urge to run. Dean was right; he had to take it easy. He walked as quickly as he dared. Finally he arrived by Daryl, kneeling down to check the man over. Sam let out the breath he’d been holding. Daryl was still alive; the bullet had hit his arm. The force of the shot had knocked Daryl off his feet. “Come on, Daryl, I need to get you back.” Sam reached out to help the man to his feet.  
  
Daryl tried to get away, but Sam took hold of his uninjured arm, “Let me go, damnit! They’re gonna kill me. Please, Sam, let me get out of here.” Daryl was pleading with the younger man for mercy. Sam got to his feet and pulled Daryl up with him.  
  
He turned them around and wrapped his arm around Daryl’s waist, “Daryl, they’ve got guns pointed at my brother. If they shoot him, I’ll kill you. Now come on, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Sam helped the struggling man back to where the others waited, ensuring he didn’t try to escape again.  
  
When they reached the group, Dean relaxed, relieved that Sam had made it in one piece. “Amber, get me my bag please. There’s a blanket inside and a first-aid kit. I need to look at Daryl’s arm.” Sam said as he held Daryl upright. Amber did as she was told. Finally Dean turned away from his staring match with Great Bear.  
  
Dean stood beside Daryl and took the man’s weight while Sam put the blanket on the ground. Sam stood and helped him lower Daryl to the floor with his back against the canyon wall. Dean slowly stripped off Daryl’s jacket, “You ok, Sammy? And how come you’ve got the first aid kit with you? Talk about being prepared, dude.” Dean pulled a knife from his boot, and began to cut the sleeve of Daryl’s shirt.  
  
Sam opened the kit, and pulled out some bandages. He looked over at his brother, smiled and said, “Dude, I’m hunting with you, remember? It always pays to have the kit with me. Now Daryl, stay still and let us take care of this.” As Sam spoke he cleaned the wound with an antiseptic wipe, having a moment of petty satisfaction when Daryl whimpered in pain. He bandaged Daryl’s arm then waited as Dean covered him up with his jacket.  
  
Then he, Dean and Amber sat close together once more. They watched as the council reconvened, Amber listening intently to what was being said. So far things were not looking good for them; every warrior demanded someone pay for them being summoned. Sam watched the ghosts and once again he was stuck by Great Bear’s presence, the man was a natural born leader. He didn’t strike Sam as being bloodthirsty, having cut off some of the more creative suggestions for them. But Sam knew this was a man who had made hard, almost impossible decisions in life. Now he would have to decide their fate, and what it would mean for the tribe he vowed to protect.  
  
The council continued but the words were softer, and Amber could no longer hear what was being said. She looked at the two men watching proceedings closely; she couldn’t help but like them. She puzzled over what Dean had meant by them hunting; now she could no longer hear what was happening in the council meeting she decided to ask them. “Well, come on, then, tell me all about hunting, and why our little problem was so interesting.” Amber looked from Sam to Dean, waiting for an answer.  
  
Sam shrugged his shoulders, “What can I tell you that Dean’s little intro didn’t? We hunt ghosts and monsters, Amber. We try to stop them from hurting people, it’s the family business. We saw the story about what was happening at the Casino, and decided to look into it. At first we thought you and your friends were just dressing up to scare the construction crews, but when we got here we could tell this was a haunting. By the way, why did you bring your friends here tonight to perform the appeasement ritual? I’m curious.” Sam was using his own gut instincts, and when Amber looked down he knew his gut had been right.  
  
“Ok, Sam, you got me. After what happened on site I remembered how guilty the three musketeers over there looked, and I asked them why. They were so shook up after the ghosts appeared they admitted they had a guy on the inside, and he let the brake off. I brought them with me to apologize to Great Bear and his men for dishonouring them like that. Can I ask you guys a question?” Amber looked at Dean as she spoke.  
  
“Go for it, Amber, but if you want my number, can you wait until Sammy has to go behind a rock? He hates it when I get all the attention.” Dean grinned as Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
Amber laughed, “Right. I‘ll bear that in mind, handsome. I want to know your real names. I’d like to know who I’m gonna die with. I’ve got to say the whole Gaming Commission cover was good, though. But you really shouldn’t have used the names ‘Coverdale’ and ‘Lord’.” She smiled warmly at the brothers.  
  
Dean smiled back at Amber. Damn, he liked this woman. “Hey, nobody’s dying here tonight if me an’ Sammy’s got anything to do with it. Well, I might as well handle the introductions. I’m Dean Winchester and the highly impressive specimen of brooding emo angst is my brother, Sam. And what was so wrong with the names we used?” Dean’s curiosity had been piqued, and he gleefully ignored Sam’s grumbling.  
  
Amber’s smile grew brighter, “Oh, nothing really, guys. But put it like this. I’ve a real soft spot for English rock singers who do a mean blues riff. Plus, I know all the Gaming Commission guys; I’ve annoyed enough of them to know all their names by now. Then there was the unusual interest in the ghosts. Most of them only wanted to know how we were gonna enforce the gambling regulations.” Amber laughed softly as she spoke.  
  
Dean threw back his head and laughed. He caught Sam’s puzzled look, “It’s ok, Sam. I was wondering where the ‘singer with the band’ comment Eddie made came from. So you like ‘Whitesnake’? My personal favourite is ‘Slide it in’.” Dean’s voice dropped lower as he spoke, a lascivious smirk playing on his lips.  
  
Sam sighed. Trust Dean to be flirting at a time like this. Then he noticed how the tension drained from Amber as Dean talked playfully to her. As she relaxed so did her friends. Dean had a way of putting people at their ease. He may not be touchy feely, but when he wanted to, Dean was very good at diffusing tension, almost as much as he was an expert in causing it.  
  
“Personally, I prefer ‘Ain’t No Love in the City’. But whatever gets you through. Dean, I have to ask. What do you do to the ghosts you hunt?” Amber tilted her head to one side.  
  
Dean licked his lips, “Normally we’d salt and burn the bones, send the ghosts onto their rest. But in this case we were going to try for the appeasement ritual. Though at the moment I’m seriously considering napalm and blitzing the canyon.” Dean shrugged as Amber stiffened at those words, and Sam let his head fall forward, groaning in despair.  
  
Dean just continued as if nothing had happened, “But to be honest, I get where Great Bear is coming from. He and his men gave everything to protect those they loved. They even promised to return and carry on with that protection. Now Daryl has woken them up to play starring roles in his haunted hotel, they deserve better than that. But even though I feel for the guy, we still have to deal with them. They’ve hurt people, Amber, and no matter how much sympathy I got for them, we have to stop them.” Dean’s words were spoken gently, with a great deal of sympathy for the plight of the warriors.  
  
Sam lifted his head, and looked at Dean; he understood what his brother was saying. Great Bear and Dean were kindred spirits; Dean understood what drove the chief and his men. And, like Great Bear, he knew that sometimes no matter how much you respected your enemy, they still had to be defeated. Sam then looked over to Amber and saw how much the words had affected her. She reached over and touched Dean’s arm.  
  
“I understand what you’re saying, Dean, but how can we convince them that we pose no threat and more importantly, that Daryl’s real sorry for what he’s done?” Amber wondered how Dean and Sam proposed to get them out of this mess.  
  
“This council thing, do you think you’ll be allowed to speak and defend us?” Dean asked, hoping she would say yes.  
  
Amber looked past Dean and gave a nervous smile, “It looks like we’re about to find out.” She motioned with her eyes and Dean looked back. One of the warriors approached them. He was waiting for the ghost to speak to them in Cherokee, surprising him when the ghost addressed them in English.  
  
“Great Bear wishes for one of you to come, and put your case to us. Who wishes to speak for you?” The ghost’s face was impassive. Amber stood up slowly. She was nervous, and then she saw Dean move. He looked up at her, his expressive eyes telling her exactly what he needed her to do.  
  
“I will come and speak for us, but I wish to bring a friend with me to meet with Great Bear.” Amber stood straight. She was one of the tribe and a shaman, and as such should be shown the respect her position merited. The ghost’s eyes went to the medicine pouch that hung around her neck. The ghost nodded and Amber gestured for Dean to stand up.  
  
Sam leaned forward and hissed at his brother, “Dean, what the hell do you think you’re doing, man?” Sam’s sense of unease grew; he wished Amber was taking him. Great Bear’s interest in his brother was playing on his mind, and he wondered just what the chief had planned for him. When Amber had requested a friend to come and then she’d gestured to Dean, there had been a glimmer of a smile on the ghost’s face. Now his brother was walking to meet a powerful warrior, and he knew just what Dean was capable of, if it meant protecting everyone of their group. Sam felt a wave of helplessness wash over him as Dean and Amber walked away.  
  
Amber moved close to Dean, “What do I do?” She asked, unsure of why Dean wanted to go with her. Dean watched Great Bear as they grew closer; something told him the chief had struck some kind of deal with his warriors concerning their fate. He was going with Amber to do his best to keep them all in one piece.  
  
Dean gave a gentle smile, “Just answer whatever questions they ask you, and answer from the heart, Amber. By the way, I need to know something.” Dean looked at her as he spoke, his green eyes sympathetic to the young woman’s plight.  
  
Amber glanced over at Dean; she gave a small smile, “Are you sure you haven’t been talking to Albert? Because that’s just the kind of thing he’d say. And what do you want to know?” They were getting closer and she was becoming more nervous.  
  
“I think you knew that the ghosts on the site were real. Why did you do nothing? Were you hoping that Daryl would be scared off? Or did you know what he was up to and that Great Beat would teach him a lesson?” Dean needed to know that Amber was completely innocent in this, because he knew that Great Bear would see through any deception on their part right away.  
  
Amber paused and then lowered her head, “You’re right. I realized pretty quickly what was happening on site. But Dean, I promise you, I just thought that the construction had disturbed some of the warriors that had fallen in the desert. Not all of Great Bear’s men died in the canyon, I admit I was enjoying the fact that Daryl was haunted by some of our ancestors. But I swear I was coming here tonight to lay their spirits to rest, and as I said, apologize for my friends’ behaviour. I had the shock of my life when we found Daryl was here. I never knew just what the project meant to him. I didn’t think he’d go this far. I don’t think he fully understood what he was unleashing when he called Great Bear and his men from their rest.” Amber stopped speaking, as they had arrived in front of the fire.  
  
Dean put out his hand and gently squeezed Amber’s hand, looking over the fire at the spirit of Great Bear. The chief glanced over, his face expressionless, and again Dean felt as if he was being judged by the warrior. He listened as Amber began to speak but he couldn’t understand her words. They were filled with passion, her voice musical and lilting as the Cherokee spilled from her lips.  
  
Dean risked looking away from the Chief, glancing at the warriors gathered around the fire. Every face was as emotionless as the next, and again Dean’s gut told him that the decision had already been made. Amber may as well have been reciting ‘Whitesnake’ lyrics for all the effect she was having. Hell, at least that would be entertaining, he mused.  
  
Finally Amber stopped speaking and she looked around at the warriors; she too felt a sense of futility. She turned to look at Dean. He had a half-smile on his face, and he appeared to be the most relaxed she’d seen him. It felt as if he’d made peace with whatever was going to happen here, and now he was just waiting for the inevitable.  
  
Great Bear began to speak, and Amber turned her full attention to him. As the Chief spoke Dean felt Amber tense beside him. He was waiting patiently for her to turn and translate the words. Then Amber began to speak. This time it sounded as if she was pleading with the ghost; she was becoming more and more distraught. Finally Dean couldn’t take it any longer. He took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Amber, what’s wrong? What did Great Bear say? Come on, give me something to work with here.” Dean looked at her intently, waiting for Amber to pull herself together.  
  
Amber felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The words of the chief still echoed in her mind, and now Dean wanted to know what he’d said. She quickly looked over to where the rest of them sat. She could see how scared they were, and Daryl looked terrified at the possibility of dying here. She noticed Sam, and for the first time since she’d met them, Sam looked terrified and was looking right at Dean. It was as if he knew his brother was going to do something he wasn’t going to like. Then she looked back at Dean, and instead of seeing fear in his eyes, all she saw was compassion for her. She also saw a fierce determination burning within the moss-green depths.  
  
“Amber, I told you, no one is dying here tonight. Now whatever Great Bear said, I need to know. I promise that no one will hurt you. What do they want from us, Amber?” As he spoke he gently stroked her arms. She calmed a little at that gentle touch and she turned back to face the council of warriors once again.  
  
“The council have talked and they say there is a debt to be paid, and it must be paid in full.” Amber lowered her eyes, unable to face the man beside her.  
  
Dean’s heart began to race. Ok, now they were getting there. He could deal with whatever they wanted. “Ok then, Amber. Well, I’ve got about fifty dollars on me, and if they’ll let me go back to the motel room, I’ve got some more money stashed with my dirty socks. It’s safe there as Sam won’t touch ‘em.” Dean grinned at her, and squeezed her hand again.  
  
Amber looked up at him, “Is everything a joke to you? Do you know what they’re asking for?” Amber was angry that Dean could joke at a time like this.  
  
Dean looked at her, his green eyes suddenly serious, all traces of humour were gone, “Amber, my brother is back there, and so are seven of your friends. You’re suggesting to me there is a possibility this could be done without them killing everyone, then I’m all ears. What will pay the debt, Amber?” Dean had stood up straighter, and for the first time since they’d met Amber saw the hunter....no, the warrior Dean was. Yes, in the desert he’d been ready to take on the ghosts and fight, but now she knew he would do whatever it took to protect them all, and it frightened her.  
  
She took a deep breath and made one more appeal to Great Bear. When the answer came back the same she turned to Dean. Dean watched her struggle with what she’d been told; he stepped closer to her and spoke softly.  
  
“Amber, you have to tell me what will pay the debt. I heard you and Great Bear say the same thing. What does Gi gv mean?” Dean looked into her eyes and saw them fill with tears; he lifted his hand up and brushed at a tear as it fell.  
  
Amber drew in a calming breath, “It means blood, Dean. The debt can only be paid with blood.”  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

The way of the warrior, chapter 8.  
  
  
  
"It means blood, Dean; the debt can only be paid with blood.”  
  
Dean glanced over to the ghosts; there wasn’t a flicker of movement or change of emotion on their faces. “How do you mean, blood? Are we talking knife across the palm kinda blood? Or will it be the case of all of us getting our throats cut, and our scalps ending up as trophies, kinda blood?” Dean licked his lips and looked at Amber, she bridled at the mention of scalps. Dean gave a smile, “Great, good to see you back with me. What do Great Bear and the rest of the guys mean by that? I’m hoping it’s the first one of my suggestions, and not the second one.” He was looking worried as he spoke.  
  
Amber gave a slight smile at Dean’s words; he was doing what he did best - trying to lighten the situation. But there was no way to lighten this situation; she had to tell him what the tribe was demanding. “Great Bear has offered us a way out, but it means that someone will have to shed their blood. He and his men want to know that we are still worthy of their protection, that there are still those who walk the path of the warrior amongst us.” Amber started to bite her nails anxiously.  
  
Dean took hold of her hand, “Ok, let’s pretend I don’t know what you’re on about. Can you explain how we are supposed to do that? Take on one of his men in a fight? Play rock, paper, scissors? What do they want us to do, Amber?” Dean had no choice but to press the woman for an answer; he had to know what he and Sam would have to deal with.  
  
Amber took a deep breath before she answered him, “It’s simple really. They’ve demanded one of us undergo a trial by torture. And if our champion passes The Trial then we will be free to leave here.” Her voice shook as she spoke, and she shivered slightly.  
  
Dean relaxed a little when she told him that, “Amber, that’s great news.” He grinned in triumph at her.  
  
She looked at him like he’d gone mad, “Are you nuts? Do you have any idea what happens to someone during this?” Amber’s voice was getting louder and more fearful.  
  
Dean tried to calm her down, “You don’t get what I’m trying to say here. I’m not happy that one of us is gonna get their ass kicked seven ways from Sunday. We’ve just been given a fighting chance. Listen, if it had just been me an’ Sam, then we would’ve tried to fight our way out of here. But it’s not just the two of us; there’s you and your friends for us to worry about. This trial means we have a better chance of getting all of you out of here. Now why don’t you tell me what the hell happens in the Trial, and then let me worry about going over there and asking for volunteers?” Dean squeezed her arms and hoped she understood.  
  
Amber nodded, finally understanding just what he meant when he’d been happy at the news, so she began to talk to him softly, explaining what would happen.  
  
Sam sat, watching his brother and Amber as they faced the council of warriors. Again he felt a sense of unease growing. He knew Dean only too well, and just what he was capable of offering, if it meant saving him and the others from harm. After Dad’s death he had only gotten worse. Now Sam was convinced this might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back.  
  
Then he heard a moan from just behind him. He turned to see Daryl shifting in discomfort. Sam got up and moved towards him, “Are you ok, Daryl?” He asked quietly.  
  
Daryl nodded, looking miserable as his arm throbbed and he shivered with pain, moving again to try and get comfortable, sat on the canyon floor.  
  
Sam looked at him and asked, “Why did you do it? Why summon Great Bear and his men? What did you hope to gain from it? I know you told Amber that it was for the tribe, to make the casino stand out. Was that all it was, or was there something else?” Sam waited for Daryl to answer him; wondering if Dean was risking his life for a man just out to make money for himself. A snake oil salesman, as Dean had called him. If that was the case, then Sam was more than ready to wring his neck himself.  
  
Daryl looked up at Sam and shifted again, “I promise you, Sam. I did all of this for the tribe. Do you know how many Casinos are out there? I saw we needed an edge, something that would make us unique. Then it hit me....a haunted hotel. I’d trained as a shaman. I was sure I could control the ghosts. I was going to summon them when I needed them to be there. We could’ve made a fortune and, I’m sure Amber would’ve understood eventually why I was doing it. Just think of all the good the money could do the town and my people.” Daryl’s words were sincere, and his eyes were lit up as he talked about his casino.  
  
Sam realized he genuinely meant what he said; he really thought he was helping the town and tribe by doing this. From what Dean had told him about Daryl and Amber’s past, maybe he thought he would impress her with his skills as a shaman. But he’d been wrong about the whole thing. Now someone would have to pay the price for what he’d done. Deep down, Sam knew that Dean would probably be the one to pay it.  
  
Sam was getting angry with Daryl; all he could see was how he would be a hero to the town, not the consequences of his actions. “You don’t get it, do you, Daryl? You can’t control ghosts at the best of times; it’s like trying to put a leash on a whirlwind. Great Bear and his men died for your people, they promised to remain here to protect you.” Sam sighed in frustration at the man.  
  
“No, it’s you who don’t understand, Sam; this casino is going to bring the town back to life. I’d made sure that everything was safe. The ghosts were bound to the medicine bags, and I did all the chants correctly. My idea was foolproof, and then you and your brother came crashing in and pissed Great Bear off. I know I could’ve controlled them.” Daryl retorted angrily.  
  
Sam clenched his fists - it was that, or grab Daryl. “You were never in control of them; all you did was make them angry. Your arrogance has put you and everyone else here in danger. Me and Dean didn’t piss them off, you did. Do you think they feel that they have been summoned for a worthy cause? All we can do is hope that Amber can convince them that you’re sorry for being a jackass, and hope they’ll let us go.” Sam turned away from Daryl, unable to face him any longer, muttering softly to himself. “More importantly I just hope that Dean doesn’t go and do something too stupid to get us out of here.” He went back to watching the council’s deliberations.  
  
“And that’s it, right? No other nasty surprises. You just need to survive the trial? And then we’re free.” Dean had listened to what Amber had told him, and stood, thinking.  
  
Amber threw her arms up in the air, “Isn’t that enough, Dean? Look! Young men have died undergoing this; it’s not an easy way out. Whoever does this is going to suffer. I can’t ask anyone to do that. I know I’ll...” Before she could say another word, Dean placed a finger on her lips.  
  
“Don’t even finish that thought; you’re too important to the people in the town to risk your life here. According to Albert you’re going to be the next shaman, and you know you’re needed here. Who else will keep Daryl on the straight and narrow? Albert said to me you were both right and wrong. I didn’t get what he meant at first, but I do now. You need to work together, his head for business and your heart for your people.  
  
What’s so wrong with displaying your heritage at the casino? I think Albert wanted you to make sure that the staff wasn’t going to be dressed in buckskin bikinis. Although, thinking about it, Eddie’s got the legs for it. Albert wanted you to understand that the casino is the best thing for the town. That not all of Daryl’s ideas were bad, you just need to curb the worst of them. Which means you have to promise me, no ghost tours around the canyon, ok? Right, I want you to speak to Great Bear for me.” Dean turned to face the assembled ghosts; he drew himself up to his full height. He was ready to do this; he looked at Amber and nodded.  
  
“What do you want me to say, Dean? I’m a shaman not a mind reader.” She smiled as Dean ducked his head, and rubbed at the back of his neck.  
  
“Sorry. Ok, then. Ready? Let’s do this.” Dean began to speak and Amber translated for him.  
  
Sam saw the way Dean and Amber had been talking, and once or twice he’d heard Amber’s voice start to rise in anger. Finally he saw resignation in her body language. Sam pushed down the desire to get up, and run over to his brother to prevent him doing something idiotic. But something told him he was already too late. He watched as Amber and Dean turned around, and started walking towards them. Then he spotted they were being escorted by two warriors. Sam stood up, as he did the rest of the group followed suit, and his eyes never left Dean. He seemed to be nervous about something, Sam’s eyes narrowed, damn what had the self sacrificing idiot gone and done now.  
  
“I don’t believe you just did that, you moron.” Amber hissed at Dean, as they were being escorted back to the others. He just shrugged and winced slightly, as his side took the opportunity to remind him of the fact he was already hurt. That was going to make life more interesting tomorrow he thought.  
  
“Amber it was the most logical thing to do. Great Bear and his men were gonna do this no matter what, at least now we have some control over things.” Dean worried at his bottom lip with his teeth.  
  
“Right of course, some control. Dean do you know what you just did?” Amber’s voice was getting shrill as she spoke.  
  
Dean put his arm around her, “Yeah, I made sure that Great Bear didn’t come over here, and ask one of your friends to put themselves through it. Now relax and smile, for god’s sake, please.” Dean was watching Sam, and he saw the expression on his face....ohhh yeah, Bitch Face No 7. Damn! That was bad.  
  
Amber felt as if she had been out-manoeuvred by the chief, but right now she was more concerned about Dean. She noticed for the first time since this began he looked worried. She looked at him, “Oh, is it sinking in now what you’ve agreed to? Dean, this is serious. What are we gonna do?” She muttered at him, as they neared her friends.  
  
Dean saw his brother looming ever closer and he smirked, “Well, getting Great Bear to let me go through the trial was the easy part. Now we’re coming to the hard part of tonight’s little adventure.” He sounded a little nervous and wasn’t looking at her as he spoke.  
  
Amber followed Dean’s worried gaze, to where Sam stood with a slightly murderous expression on his face. “You think that was the easy? So what’s the hard part then?” She asked.  
  
Dean looked at his glowering little brother, “The hard part will be telling Sam what I’ve done.....Hi there, Sammy, everything alright?” Dean spoke to his brother with a forced joviality.  
  
Sam returned the smile, making a show of looking behind Dean at the warriors stood close to him. “Everything’s fine, Dean. Daryl’s doing ok, and would you like to tell me who your new friends are?” Sam was clenching his fists in an attempt not to reach over and grab his brother and shake him. “Is there anything you or Amber would like to share with us?” Sam’s voice was deceptively calm.  
  
Dean just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “Oh, nothing much, but we got a deal on getting everyone out of here.” As he finished speaking, the others looked relieved that they would be getting out of there in one piece. Sam continued to watch his brother closely; he still hadn’t explained the escort. Or why another warrior had appeared, and had put a blanket on the ground a distance away from them.  
  
He approached Dean and pointed to it. Dean nodded at the warrior, “Sorry about this bro, but it seems like we won’t be sharing a bedroom tonight. Listen, they’re letting me have a few minutes to explain everything to you, ok?” Dean spoke rapidly, hoping to head off a little brother meltdown.  
  
Just then one of the young women spoke, “We’re done, then? We can get out of here, right? What are we waiting for?” She appeared to be getting ready to make her way to the entrance.  
  
Sam stopped her, “Wait a moment. Something tells me it’s not gonna be that easy. Don’t forget that not long ago Great Bear and his men were talking about killing us. Now they’re just prepared to let us go? And why does Dean have to stay here?” Sam’s voice was low and measured.  
  
Amber felt the tension pouring off Dean, as he got ready to drop his bombshell. She kept a close watch on Sam, unsure of his reaction to what Dean had to tell him.  
  
The boyfriend of the woman just shrugged his shoulders, “Sam, to be honest I don’t give a shit. We’re getting out of here. If your brother wants to stay with these guys then he is more than welcome, but we’re gone.” He took his girlfriend’s arm and started to move.  
  
Sam was stood in front of him in a flash. Amber was shocked; she’d never seen anyone move that fast. She called out in shock, “Jim, Sara, for God’s sake, stop. Haven’t we seen enough blood tonight?” She was hoping the ghosts didn’t think this was another escape attempt; she was relieved when they didn’t move.  
  
Sam was using his greater height to move them back to the fire. As Sam menaced the young couple, Dean spoke. He sounded tired. “Knock it off, Sam, it ain’t their fault. Ladies and gentlemen, I should’ve made it clear what’s going to happen. You all have to stay here until Great Bear is happy that I passed a little test he’s set me. Now everyone, just relax and try and get some rest. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” He smiled confidently.  
  
Dean was just about to turn around and motion to the warriors he was ready to go, when Sam spoke to Amber, “Amber, what kind of test are we talking here? I get the feeling it won’t be algebra. And what will happen if Dean fails the test?” He kept his eyes on Dean as he spoke, noticing how his brother tensed, when he asked the question.  
  
Amber watched as the two brothers just stared at one another. She really didn’t want to be caught between them at this moment time.  
  
Dean shot his brother an indignant look, “What? Don’t you trust me? I’m wounded, dude. It’s nothing to worry about. I got it covered. You get some beauty sleep, Sam. You know how puffy your eyes get if you don’t get your eight hours.” Dean was smiling, attempting to make light of what was going to happen.  
  
“Of course I trust you, Dean; after all, you never do anything stupid, do you? Remember the Devas? How you forgot to mention you’d nearly been gutted by them. If you hadn’t almost wrapped the Impala around a tree, I think you would’ve let yourself bleed to death. What was it you said while I stitched you up? Oh yeah. ‘It’s just a scratch, Sammy’. That damn scratch took over thirty stitches. Now what the hell is the test, Dean and don’t you damn well lie to me?” Sam was becoming more agitated as he spoke.  
  
Dean licked his lips. Crap, he’d wanted to keep quiet about the whole trial by torture thing. But Sam looked as if he was going to march over to Great Bear, and start demanding answers.  
  
Amber stepped forward. She could see a stand-off developing between the two men. She needed to break the deadlock and telling Sam the truth was the only way, whether Dean liked it or not. “Ok, then, Sam, Great Bear offered us a way out of this mess without all of us ending up dead.......” Amber’s voice deserted her - she couldn’t bring herself to tell Sam.  
  
Sam watched Amber’s struggle, and decided help her out. “What kind of alternative did he offer you? During my research into Native American history in the last few days, I’ve come across some fairly graphic descriptions of the kind of test Great Bear is suggesting. None of them were very pretty. Is it a test of courage, skill, or fighting ability? I know my big brother - he might miss out a few small details. Please, Amber, why don’t you tell us everything?” Sam finished speaking, and waited to hear the response, a resolute look in his eyes  
  
Dean went to speak to Sam, holding up his hand to silence him. Amber looked around at her friends and at Daryl. They all looked terrified, she couldn’t blame them. She decided to answer Sam’s questions honestly. “It’s known as a Trial by Torture; it’s conducted by a test of strength, endurance, cunning and courage. Great Bear has said if Dean passes it, we are all free to go. But if he fails then we all die.” Around them there were cries of horror as what Amber said sank in.  
  
“I suppose when you say pass, you mean survive, right? Christ, Dean, why did you agree to this? We could have gotten everyone out of here without you doing this. What if you fail? What happens to everyone then? ” His voice was raw with grief at the thought of what Dean had agreed to.  
  
Dean gave his brother a smile; it was time to give Sam a reality check. “Ok, Sam so I’ve been stupid and reckless again, as you’ll no doubt remind me. I’d like to hear your plan for getting us out of here, it should be easy enough. All we have to do is get out of this canyon, past heavily armed warriors. Then run across open ground with no cover, while Great Bear and his men chase us down on horseback, armed with rifles. How far do you think we will have to run to get clear of them, Sam, before they run out of sacred ground and turn into normal ghosts? You know, the kind that flicker and fade, and the bullets from their guns ain’t gonna put holes in us all. Well, how far? A hundred metres... two hundred... half a mile... a mile? Come on, Sam, I’m waiting for your ideas here.” Dean glared at his brother, angry and hurt.  
  
Sam looked around the canyon, and he knew what Dean was saying was right. If they just ran then they would be cut down. There had to be another way. He had to find a way to save Dean from going through this. He shoved his hands in his pockets and then he smiled as his fingers brushed over his phone  
  
“We don’t have to run. Look, someone is going to miss Amber, her friends and Daryl. All we have to do is delay the trial. Then when they come for them, we’re all free and clear. Look, Dean, you don’t have to do this.” Sam’s voice was hopeful. He looked around and he could see the same hope building within Amber’s friends.  
  
Dean looked at Sam, suddenly feeling old and tired, and stretched too thin. With everything his Dad had put on his shoulders concerning Sammy, and the whole destiny crap, he’d felt out of control, as if he was constantly running in circles. But right here and now, he felt as if he could focus on something for the first time in a long while. He could deal with the trial; it made him feel as if there was something he could do to help, not just blunder around, getting more and more lost.  
  
He understood why Sam wanted them to be found. Sam didn’t want him to get hurt. Hell, he didn’t want to get hurt. But he knew there was no other option. There hadn’t been from the second they’d entered the canyon, Great Bear had seen to that. Now he was going to have to shatter the fragile hopes of everyone stood here. “Hey, Amber, is anyone gonna miss you tomorrow? Have you got somewhere to be or anyone to see?” Dean looked over at Amber when he asked the question.  
  
She shook her head, “No, Albert knew what I was going to be doing here tonight, and he is looking after the centre for me. I told him me and the guys here were going to camp out here overnight and chill out. Everyone will think we’ve just turned our phones off, and are having a good time.” She sounded defeated.  
  
Dean looked over at the others and saw the hope beginning to die in their eyes. “You heard Amber, Sam, no one is gonna miss them, and I should imagine that Daryl doesn’t hang around town much at the weekend. Have you tried the cell reception in here? Even if we got hold of Bobby, how long would it take him to get to us? Look, face it, Sam, we’re on our own. Besides, do we really want to drag more people into this? We don’t want to give the ghosts any more hostages. This was the only way, man; I wish there had been another choice but...”  
  
Sam looked at Dean, and nodded sadly, “There was another way. You could have talked to us, asked if one of us would do it. But no, it had to be you, didn’t it? Damn it, Dean! I would’ve done it, but no, it’s protect Sammy at all costs. Dad’s damn orders! You think this is gonna be easy for me? Watching you suffer? Shit! How could you be so.....?” He stopped himself before he said what he was thinking.  
  
“How could I be so selfish? Stupid? Ready to throw myself in the pit after Dad? Come on, Sammy; just get it all off your chest, and then maybe we can sort this shit out together.” Dean’s green eyes flashed with anger. He’d had enough of Sam’s attitude lately, and now this. Why couldn’t he understand why he was doing this?  
  
Sam squared up to his brother, the same anger coursing though his veins, “Alright then, I know you miss Dad, and you feel responsible for his death. But he was a grown man, Dean. He made his own choices. We both know no one could influence him. And look at the damn crap he left you with, and you just want to throw your damn life away like this? Screw you, Dean. I don’t know why I bother. One way or another you’ll find a way to get yourself killed. How the hell are you going to get through this while you’re hurt? I should go over and offer myself in your place. Don’t do this.....please.” Sam ignored the startled gasps of the others, as he pleaded with his brother to see sense.  
  
“You’re hurt? Holy shit, Dean, what the hell were you thinking? You don’t undergo this lightly and now Sam tells us you’re injured. I think we should let Sam talk to Great Bear. Please, Dean, don’t be stupid, think of everyone here.” Amber was looking at Dean in a way that made Sam feel ashamed. He’d never meant for this to happen; he only wanted Dean to realize he wasn’t indestructible.  
  
Dean sighed. Great! Now they all thought he was a loser. He scrubbed his fingers through his short hair, and then dropped his hand down; as he did he absently wrapped his arm around his injured ribs. He looked up and gave everyone a dazzling smile, “Don’t worry, Amber, Sam’s just being his usual girly self. It’s just a few bruises. Nothing I can’t handle. I’m fine, trust me.”  
  
Amber folded her arms and looked at him appraisingly, “Oh, so it’s just a few bruises. What about the blood I got on me earlier? Where did that come from, Dean? Well?”  
  
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Great! Now he was getting a headache, “Right, it was just a scratch, and no, not the thirty stitches variety. Listen to me. I’d love nothing more than to go and sit this one out, but trust me when I say I have to do this. And no, it’s not some fucked up need to follow Dad to the grave. More than anything I wish we could take the ghosts out, but we’re outnumbered and outgunned.” Dean looked around at them, imploring them with his eyes to understand.  
  
“Now if I was really reckless then I wouldn’t give a damn, and I’d just charge right in, but we have civilians with us, Sam. Whether we like it or not, Great Bear has given us a way out. And I will make sure that every single one of you is safe.” Dean stopped, looking around at the group. He could see that finally they realized just what kind of trouble they were in. Now he had to remind Sam of why he had to be the one to do this.  
  
“Sam, you know me, there’s no way I could watch you go through this. Hell, I’d probably start swinging at the warriors, and get us all killed. Now that’s reckless. I know I’ve got the easy part tomorrow, and I wouldn’t trade places with you for the world. You’ve got the hardest job in this, Sam and I’m sorry for that. I need you to take care of Amber and her friends and keep an eye on Daryl. Now you keep your wits about you, little brother. Stay sharp and keep your hands off my stuff, bitch. Looks like it’s time for me to go.” Dean was watching two warriors approach him. They took hold of his arms, and escorted him to where the blanket was. They let go of him and he carefully lowered himself down slowly, feeling the return of his aches and pains as his body came to a halt. Then he leant back against the canyon wall and closed his eyes, and willed his aching body to relax.  
  
  
  
Sam stood watching as his brother was led away. He felt as if his heart was being torn in two, but now there was nothing he could do but wait. He had to accept Dean’s decision. It didn’t mean he liked it, but he would abide by it and help Dean any way he could. With that in mind he turned to the others. “Ok, we may as well try and get some rest. Like Dean said, it’s gonna be a real long day tomorrow.” He sat down and his eyes went to where is brother sat, a look of worry crossing his face.  
  
Amber noticed Sam had positioned himself so he was as close to Dean as possible. She reached over and squeezed his hand, “I should’ve told Dean I was sorry. There was no way he’d deliberately put us in danger. Your brother is a very brave man, Sam.” Amber smiled sadly at him, and then she turned to talk to her friends.  
  
Sam sat watching Dean, he was regretting the harsh words he’d said to him, and he was thinking about what had lead them there, and then he heard Amber and her friends talking; they wanted to hear about what had been said in the council. Sam started to pay attention; it might give him some clues on how to get them out of this.  
  
Amber talked about what Dean had wanted her to translate. He’d told Great Bear and his men that warriors were in short supply these days; that he was a hunter and he would willingly go through the Trial. He knew he wasn’t part of the tribe, but if they were looking for a volunteer then there he was. Then she told them how Great Bear and his men had talked quietly, and the chief had nodded and Dean’s fate was sealed.  
  
Daryl had been sitting there, looking pensive and finally he spoke, “I should’ve been the one to go through the Trial. If I hadn’t been so goddamn dumb none of this would’ve happened. Look, how about if I go over to the chief and tell him I’ll take Dean’s place. Just maybe they’ll be so busy beating the crap out of me, it will give you guys the chance to try and get away.” He went to stand.  
  
Sam was thinking; he’d been going over what Dean had said to him. He was puzzled about his comment about his stuff; he’d have to look in Dean’s bag at some point tonight. He knew that Dean had something in his mind about getting them out of the canyon if he thought he wasn’t going to make it, and the contents of his bag would provide the clue. Dean had a plan, and ok, the plan included getting beat to hell and back, but in his big brother’s mind it was an acceptable piece of collateral damage.  
  
Just then Daryl’s words broke into his thoughts. He lifted his eyes and spoke “Daryl, stop right there. I’ll tell you something about Dean. There is no way he’d let any of us get hurt. Even if it means he’s the one doing the hurting then he is fine with that. Once the chief put that deal on the table, there was never going to be anyone else to be the one to do it. He’ll keep us safe if it’s the last thing he does. Now please just stay here.” Sam’s words froze the other man in place.  
  
Sam turned to Amber; he had a couple of questions for the young shaman. “Did Great Bear seem pleased that Dean offered himself to do the trial? I’m curious.”  
  
She went over the events of the council for a few seconds and then replied, “Now you come to mention it, he did seem pleased with the way things turned out. When Great Bear laid down the challenge, I was going to offer myself....” Amber waited for the exclamations of dismay from her friends and Sam to die down. “Dean wouldn’t hear of it, saying I was too important to the town. Then he offered himself instead. I don’t know why, but I got the feeling that everything was going exactly how Great Bear wanted it to go. Then when I was telling him what happens during the trial, I noticed Great Bear never took his eyes off Dean. It was as if he was weighing him up, checking him for weaknesses or something. Does that help at all, Sam?” Amber wondered what Sam had in mind.  
  
Sam sat thinking about what Amber had just told him. Ever since he’d seen Great Bear’s response to Dean, he knew the chief had wanted to challenge him. He’d recognized a fellow warrior; he looked up and his gaze went over to the chief. The older man was sat alone by the fire, staring into its depths. There was a look of sadness on his face; it was the face of a man who’d seen too much pain and death. His eyes were old, much older than his body, and Sam knew he’d seen that look before. He’d seen it on Dean’s face many times when he thought he was alone, and there was no need for him to be wearing his ‘game face’. That’s when Sam understood what had happened. Great Bear saw Dean as a kindred spirit, another warrior who’d dealt with too much pain in his life. Even so, Dean was still trying to do the right thing by those who he loved, and by complete strangers. Sam finally understood Great Bear’s fascination with Dean.  
“I’ve been a total goddamn idiot! I got it wrong. I thought Great Bear was looking at Dean as an enemy. Shit! I couldn’t be further from the truth. Amber, what do you know about Great Bear?” Sam leant forward excitedly. Several theories were suddenly whirling around his head and he needed Amber’s help to sort them out. Amber looked taken aback by the strange question, “Not too much. I only know what I’ve heard concerning what happened on the Trail of Tears. How he led a fight back against Captain Stoneman, allowing the other tribes people to escape. I’ve told you all about that already, Sam. How does that help?” She was at a loss how to help the young man further.  
  
“No, what do you know about Great Bear -the man, not the warrior? It’s important, trust me, Amber. Anything, anything at all could help.” Sam looked around at the others anxiously, hoping one of them could help him.  
  
Daryl shuffled, and started to speak, “When I was younger, my grandfather used to tell me stories about Great Bear, but they’re nothing to do with how good a fighter he was. They were just family stories. I don’t see how they will help.” Daryl looked Sam, wondering what a bunch of fairy tales could possibly do to help them.  
  
“Please Daryl, just tell me. I’ll let you know if the stories are relevant.” Sam waited to hear the stories.  
  
“Ok then. Well, you all know how good a warrior and tactician Great Bear was. But my grandfather used to tell stories of how compassionate he was, and how he believed that violence should be the last course of action, not the first. Grandfather also spoke of how Great Bear believed in negotiating with the American government, as he knew that the tribes would lose a direct confrontation. Grandfather always talked of Great Bear being quite the peacemaker, and that his younger brother, Black Eagle was the real warmonger in the family.”  
  
“Hold on. You’re telling us that the man they elected War Chief, is really a peaceful man?” Sam interrupted, shocked at that news.  
  
“According to my grandfather, he was a family man first and foremost, and would do anything to protect those he loved. When the government made it plain it was a case of go on the march or die, Great Bear was doing everything he could to keep his family safe. Like many at that time, he’d seen what the army would do to any ‘redskin’ who defied them.  
  
Great Bear’s younger brother was a real hothead, he enjoyed rabble rousing every chance he got. In the end it got him a place with the agitators on Captain Stoneman’s march. In fact, Great Bear should never have been with them. He should’ve gone with the rest of the Cherokee nation. But he came to keep watch on his brother, and to make sure he didn’t get himself killed by doing something stupid. But then on the march, Great Bear and the others realized what was happening, and when the council was held to elect the War Chief, Great Bear was the only choice, due to his skills as a leader. I don’t know how that helps you, Sam. As I said, these are just family stories. There’s no evidence to prove what Grandfather told me.” Daryl finished speaking and looked at the faces around him.  
  
Sam sat up straight. Daryl had been more of a help than he could ever know. Great Bear may have been a warrior, but it seemed that he wasn’t one for spilling blood just for the sake of it. Now he needed to understand about the canyon itself and that’s where Amber could help him.  
  
“Amber, do you think that the ghosts were aware of their surroundings all that time they remained trapped here in the canyon?” Sam needed to hear just how the ghosts were kept here.  
  
Amber tilted her head, and answered the question, “No, Sam, the ghosts were never trapped here. Great Bear and his men vowed to remain and protect us. That’s why the shaman still performed thanksgiving rituals; we honour their sacrifice. I’ve been here with Albert to perform the rituals, and you know I’ve always felt safe in here and at peace. There’s a feeling of serenity here, or at least there was. I always felt as if the canyon was waiting for something and I.......” Amber paused and looked right at Daryl, something flickering in her eyes.  
  
“Daryl, which way around do you do this? Did you gather the bones and place the medicine bags first, or did you summon the ghosts first?” She watched Daryl closely.  
  
Daryl ran his fingers through his hair, “I...came into the canyon and got the bones and the dirt first then I summoned the ghosts.” He looked down at the floor,  
  
Amber let her head fall forward, “Daryl, you don’t understand. You didn’t just summon the ghosts from the bones, you woke the whole tribe. And they thought the time had come to fulfil their vow to protect the tribe once again.” She looked over at Sam and saw he was thinking about what was being said.  
  
“Daryl, when you planted the bags, did you do anything else to the site? Like make it into sacred ground like the canyon here?” Sam spoke suddenly and everyone looked at Daryl  
  
Once again Daryl looked away from the others, “I performed the cleansing rituals, and placed totems and medicine bags for the four elements around the site. Yes, I made the site sacred ground for them to walk on. I guess I really screwed up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Amber.” Daryl’s voice was filled with remorse as he spoke.  
  
Sam heard another of Amber’s friends snort with derision, “Dude, it ain’t Amber. You gotta say sorry to Sam and Dean. Especially, Dean, the poor bastard, now he’s agreed to go through all that crap for us.” Sam watched Daryl squirm. He wanted to step in and tell them to leave him alone, but at this moment in time he didn’t have the heart. But it was helping to confirm a suspicion that had begun to form about Great Bear, and what he’d done.  
  
Amber rolled her eyes, “Seriously, Eric, just leave Daryl alone. We’ve got enough problems, without us turning on each other as well. I think Sam gets how serious this is, we all do. There’s something on your mind about this, isn’t there, Sam?” Amber watched him as he stared over at Great Bear once again.  
  
He turned back to the others, before letting his eyes stray back to the spirit of the great warrior sat alone, keeping his own vigil in the night. “Amber, I’d guess that the majority of the people here were Cherokee. Didn’t they develop a similar constitution to the rest of America along the lines of one man, one vote? What if the majority of the warriors wanted to kill us? What would Great Bear do?” Sam waited for the answer, his theory hinged on this.  
  
Amber thought for a moment before responding, “Well if they all voted to kill us, then Great Bear would have no choice but to give orders, and we’d all be dead? Why do you ask?” She sounded intrigued by Sam’s questions.  
  
“Ok, what if he offered them an alternative? A Trial by Torture. Pick a champion and if the champion passes the ordeal then we go free. Would that be acceptable to the other warriors?” Sam continued his line of questioning.  
  
“I suppose it would be acceptable. They see what Daryl has done as a debt of honour that has to be paid. And a warrior undergoing the Trial would honour our traditions. Also with Great Bear’s condition, if Dean fails, we all die. It means there is still a chance the rest of the tribe will get our blood in the end.” She looked at Sam, wondering where this was leading  
  
Sam rocked back; everything fell into place, “Great Bear and his men wake up; they think the time has come to protect the Tribe once more. Then the warriors attached to the medicine bags wind up on the construction site. I’m pretty sure more than one of the ghosts speaks English. It doesn’t take them long to figure out what’s really happening. And what do you know? Suddenly there’s one bunch of extremely pissed-off warrior ghosts.” Sam paused, looking around at the group; he could see Amber was getting what he was saying.  
  
“Ok, they wake up, and, instead of fighting for our protection, they find out that someone wants them to scare a bunch of tourists, shitless Yup, that would piss these guys off good and proper. Don’t forget these particular warriors were separated from the rest of their nations because they were considered agitators. God, Daryl, how the hell did you ever think you could manage to control them?” Amber was angry at Daryl’s arrogance, and ashamed their ancestors had been treated like this.  
  
Sam continued to explain his theory, “Ok, Amber’s got the idea, and the warriors bring back reports to Great Bear telling him what’s happening. All the while, his men are becoming more and more angry with being treated as figures of entertainment, rather than protectors of the tribe. He can foresee things escalating, even the possibility of it ending with his warriors attacking the site and massacring construction workers. Great Bear doesn’t want that to happen; he’d prefer that they return to their rest. Maybe Black Eagle is demanding action and vengeance for the insult to the tribe. Then me and Dean show up in town and Great Bear’s got the answers to all his prayers, stood in front of him.” Sam shook his head. He had to admire the war chief, his planning had been perfect.  
  
“What answer to his prayers? I don’t get what you’re talking about, dude?” Eric looked around his friends, puzzled.  
  
Sam smiled and carried on, “Great Bear knew that Daryl couldn’t control them. That they were too powerful both here and on the construction site, and it was only a matter of time before his warriors exacted their revenge for being disturbed. He was looking for a warrior, a champion he could rely on to protect anyone caught up in the crossfire. And then he walked into Amber’s bar and that was that.”  
  
Amber’s face lit up with realization, “Oh, dear god! You mean Dean, don’t you? Great Bear saw this coming. He doesn’t want more bloodshed; he’s grown tired of it. But he knew that he would have to abide by the decision of his men. Instead of risking a massacre he intended to offer them the trial as an alternative, and he had a champion in mind.” Amber was starting to follow what Sam was suggesting.  
  
“When Great Bear was searching for his champion, he used the blood link between Daryl and himself to appear at the bar the other night. He saw Dean for the first time and he instinctively knew he’d met another warrior. Later on that night we went to the site to look around. I never mentioned it to Dean, but I felt as if we were being watched. I’d bet my last dollar it was some of the warriors, and they reported back to Great Bear about us being there. Then when we all turned up at the site yesterday....”  
  
Amber interrupted him, “We showed up, so did Great Bear and his men. Was that the plan? Turn up, frighten the crap out of Daryl and hope he’d come here and try to get rid of them?” Amber asked Sam, beginning to understand the chief’s plans.  
  
Sam nodded, “Something like that. I think he was hoping that a mass appearance would force us into acting. He may not understand what hunters are, but he knew we understood what was going on, especially when I found the medicine bag. And if he couldn’t stop his warriors from attacking the site, then perhaps he could offer them payment in another way...”  
  
Sam was interrupted by Jim, “Yeah, we were there. They attacked everyone, man. If you’re suggesting they ain’t violent, I saw them shoot Norm. Now you’re telling me, he didn’t give the order to shoot at us?” Jim sounded incredulous.  
  
“Actually, Great Bear didn’t give the order to attack. I think if Norm had stayed still then nothing would’ve happened. But Norm ran and it all went to hell. I saw the way he watched. Dean and I thought he wanted to take him on, one warrior to another. That he saw my brother as an adversary worthy of him. Instead he knew he’d found his champion, a man who would do whatever it took to protect those around him. Remember that damn stupid charge with the nail gun? I bet that just made Great Bear’s day.” Sam shook his head at the memory.  
  
Amber sat, listening, “Fine, but it doesn’t explain how he could be sure we would come to the canyon tonight. How did he manage that, Sam?” Amber was curious to where he was going with this train of thought.  
  
“Great Bear didn’t have to do a thing. We did it for him. After the attack at the site, he knew there was going to be a confrontation here tonight. He was already aware of who was summoning them, due to Daryl’s use of blood in the ritual. Although Daryl’s been a dick, he wouldn’t want to see people hurt. The only other people he knew would come here was us, once we were here. It was just a matter of letting events unfold. Then in the council, he put forward the Trial as a way to pay the debt, knowing full well his chosen champion would step forward and do it.” Sam stopped speaking, he understood Great Bear now. The War Chief didn’t want to kill descendants of the people he and his men had sworn to protect, that he’d seen enough death and bloodshed in life. But the need for revenge amongst his warriors had to be appeased; he was protecting all of them the only way he could think of.  
  
Dean would suffer for them, and as much as they were relying on him to succeed, Great Bear needed him to survive the Trial almost as much as they did. The War Chief didn’t want to carry the burden of their deaths on his shoulders. Sam knew tomorrow was going to be hard for Dean, and it hurt him a little to think that Great Bear had seen himself in Dean. So where did that leave him? The bitter troublesome younger brother? Now, along with their expectations, the chief’s hopes rested on his brother’s shoulders as well.  
  
The group fell silent; they were trying to take in what Sam had told them - about how the chief had manipulated events in an attempt to protect them. Now their lives were in the hands of a wounded warrior, who was going to battle for them all.  
  
  
Amber watched Sam; he was tense. She could see that in the way he sat, his posture stiff and the way he shifted constantly. Then she saw the tension flow out of Sam’s body and she followed his gaze. Dean was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His arms folded across his stomach, his eyes had been closed and he looked as if he was asleep. Then as Sam had been staring at him, Dean opened his eyes, sharing a look with his younger brother. The look they shared said more than a thousand words ever could. It calmed Sam; gave him the strength to face whatever was going to happen. Then Dean winked at Sam and closed his eyes again.  
  
While this silent exchange had been going on, Amber turned her attention towards Great Bear. The chief hadn’t moved but he appeared to be watching the brothers. When Sam relaxed the chief had smiled, and then he returned to staring into the fire. She smiled slightly; it seemed Sam was right. Great Bear had been a leader of men. He understood that a leader needed to be able to keep his men calm under pressure, and Dean had managed that in a single look. Now Sam was calm and he was doing his best to calm her and her friends.  
  
Sam was thinking about what Dean had said about his stuff. He stood up and moved over to his and Dean’s bags. The warriors tensed, but Sam just continued with what he was doing. He opened them and pulled blankets from both of their bags, and a canteen of water from his own. He paused slightly as looked inside of Dean’s bag, and then he produced a bag of candy from the depths. As the paper crinkled, a voice floated over, “Don’t eat ‘em all, dude. Save me some for later. Peanut M & Ms, the food of champions. Get your own candy, bitch.” Sam looked over his shoulder at his brother and grinned in acknowledgement. He stood up and walked back to where the group sat, huddled together. He handed over the supplies and sat down close to Amber once more.  
  
“Just think of it as watching your weight for you. Who do you think is gonna be carrying your heavy ass back to the car after this, jerk?” Sam laughed as Dean flipped him the finger in response.  
  
“Carry me back to my baby? Dream on, Sasquatch. I’ll be walking back. I’ll even carry your bag for you if you like, princess. You don’t want to break a nail now, do you, Samantha?” Sam smiled as Dean called out to him. “Now will you settle down, because some of us are trying to get some shut eye over here. You were the same when we were kids; always flapping ya trap in the middle of the night. God, the nights I wanted to lock you in the bathroom, so I could get some sleep.” Dean had opened his eyes. As he smiled at his little brother they crinkled at the sides.  
  
Sam smirked back, “Of course, you get some sleep. After all, you’re getting on these days. Not as young as you were, hey, old man? What time would you like me to wake you in the morning with your breakfast?” Sam called back.  
  
Dean yawned and stretched, “Dude, if you even think about waking me up before eleven, I’ll kick your giant ass around the canyon. Goodnight, Grandma.” Dean settled back against the wall and closed his eyes again.  
  
Sam couldn’t resist it, “And goodnight to you too, John Boy.” He heard Dean’s laugh, and turned back to see the others staring at him in astonishment.  
  
“Ok, guys, I think we should be scared; our fate’s been left in the hands of a pair of crazies.” Another of Amber’s friends spoke; he looked disturbed by what the two brothers had just done.  
  
Amber just roared with laughter to the surprise of them all, “Oh, Chris, you’re priceless. Look at where we are and what’s gonna happen! Dude, if we don’t laugh, I think we’ll start crying and never stop. What the hell....?” Amber looked over her shoulder, and called out, “Goodnight, John-Boy.” Again Dean’s laughter rang out around the canyon and then other voices took up the cry, and the canyon was filled with voices all saying goodnight.  
  
Finally they fell silent and the couples huddled together, wrapped in the blankets from Sam and Dean’s bag. Amber had gone to her and Daryl’s bag and found their blankets. Now she sat between Sam and Daryl, waiting for the morning, watching Dean as he relaxed. She knew he wasn’t asleep, but he was doing his best to appear unconcerned. She knew that Sam wouldn’t rest tonight. He would stay awake and keep watch over his brother, and she intended to watch with him.  
  
“Amber, Amber come on, you need to wake up.” Amber was startled awake by Sam. He was gently shaking her arm. She blinked and rubbed her eyes furiously. Shit! She’d fallen asleep. She looked around, her friends were still sleeping. Daryl was awake, staring over at Dean, Amber came awake as if she’d just had a cold shower. Stood over Dean were two warriors, armed with rifles. They motioned for him to stand up.  
  
Sam’s face was pale and there were dark smudges beneath his eyes. He followed Dean with his eyes as he got slowly to his feet. Without a sound Sam stood up as well, his eyes never leaving Dean. Amber scrambled to her feet as she heard the sound of her friends waking up. They grumbled at being woken so early, and then they too realized what was happening.  
  
Amber moved closer to Sam, and the warriors positioned themselves either side of Dean, ready to take him to face his fate. Amber spoke softly, “It’s time, Sam.”  
  



	10. Chapter 10

The way of the warrior, chapter 9.

 

“It’s time, Sam.” Amber’s words nearly drove him to his knees. No, not yet, it couldn’t be time. What he wouldn’t give for his ‘gift’ to be able to slow down time. Now he wanted nothing more than to run over and grab Dean. To run for the canyon’s mouth to save him from going through this. But he’d never do that, not after his brother had made his promise to Great Bear. Now all their fates rested on his shoulders, and he wouldn’t add to Dean’s burden by behaving like a spoiled frightened child.

As Dean and the warriors walked towards the centre of the canyon, he called over his shoulder, “Goddamn it, Sammy. What did I say to you about getting me up early? Crap, it’s the ass crack of dawn. And just what the hell is wrong with doing the Trial at a more reasonable hour? You know, around noon. And I ain’t even had my coffee yet. Really, is this any way to treat a warrior?” Dean grinned and winked at Sam, and turned back to face the gathered tribe. Sam could hear Dean’s words being translated around the canyon; there was laughter from some quarters and scowls from others.

Amber laughed softly at Dean’s words, “Does he always do this? You know the ‘I laugh in the face of danger’ crap? Only I don’t think he’s winning too many admirers at the minute.” Amber glanced around at the collected faces. She looked at Great Bear. A warrior stood beside him, translating Dean’s words and she caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. At least she knew Dean had one fan here; she felt Sam’s hand on her arm as he moved forward to be closer to his brother.

She went with him and was impressed by the way Sam totally ignored the armed warriors, raising their weapons as they moved. After a few nerve-wracking moments Sam came to a halt. He was level with Dean; now he stood still, waiting for the chief’s next move. Amber noticed that her friends had moved to catch up with them, and now they all stood close together.

For a moment there was silence then Great Bear began to speak in Cherokee. Dean glanced over to Amber for her to translate what the ghost was saying. As she was about to start talking, one of the warriors motioned her over to Dean. As she moved towards him, she felt her new shadow walk with her, “What the hell do you think you are doing, Sam?” She asked nervously.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just need to get close to Dean for a moment or two, ok?” He said without remorse.

Amber calmed and stood beside Dean, translating Great Bear’s speech; he spoke of the great transgression committed by one of the group here, and how there had to be payment for them being woken from their rest. That a warrior had stepped forward to undergo a Trial of courage and strength to pay for that crime. If the warrior succeeded then they were all free to leave this sacred place, but if he failed then they would all share his fate...death.

“Previously on the Winchester show...Dean agreed to get his ass kicked, because he had nothing better to do this Saturday. How you holding up, Sam?” Dean muttered out the corner of his mouth, and Amber faltered a moment before carrying on.

Sam shrugged slightly, “Oh, not too bad. I think I should complain to the management about the beds being lumpy, but apart from a numb ass I’m fine. Speaking of areas of the body being numb? Well, numbskull, any bright ideas about our situation and how to get us out of it?” Sam muttered back, and Amber spoke louder to cover the brother’s soft conversation.

Then Great Bear said something that made Amber stutter slightly, and Sam and Dean looked down at her, “Come again, I didn’t quite catch that?” Dean said, looking a little worriedly at Sam as the young shaman went bright red.

Sam shrugged again and shook his head, trying to recall the word that made Amber stutter. “What does U ye lv ha mean? And what’s it got to do with what’s going to happen?” Sam sounded puzzled and as he looked around, he noticed the expressions on various faces. Amber’s female friends were a mixture of embarrassed and interested, the men looked positively horrified and the ghosts were unconcerned by the news.

Dean looked around and he felt a thrill of anxiousness. He leant closer to Amber, “Why do I get the feeling I’m really not gonna like what you’re about to tell me? Well, what does it mean?” He sounded nervous.

Amber shuffled from foot to foot, taking a deep breath, “Err, it means naked, Dean. You will have to do the Trial naked.” If anything, she managed to blush an even deeper shade of red, when Dean’s eyes widened and for once he seemed to be at a loss for words.

He recovered and said, “Amber, when we talked about this last night, you never mentioned I’d be doing this with my ass and little Dean on display for everyone to see. It would’ve been nice to have been warned. I’d have worn my best boxers, for when I stripped off.” He sounded a little strained as he said that.

Amber looked up at Dean, “God, I’m sorry. Listen, I only know the form the Trial takes. None of us have ever seen it. I just thought you might end up in a breech clout.” Her voice was timid as she spoke.

Dean rolled his shoulders and smiled, “Actually the thought of doing this in a buckskin diaper suddenly makes the whole naked idea a little more appealing.” He looked over at Sam doing a goldfish impersonation and asked “You ok, little brother? Or are you going to get jealous of all the ladies getting an eyeful of my manly physique?” He smirked at Sam.

Sam’s jaw dropped, he hadn’t expected that. He looked over at Dean, and for once he too was at a loss for something to say. He pulled himself together and responded, “Great! Just what we need. Something else to swell your ego. Amber, he’s gonna be a nightmare. He’ll think all the ladies will want to massage his shoulders or trace his freckles with.....” Sam winced as he said that, knowing he’d just given Dean enough ammo for teasing for at least six months. Before Dean could take advantage of what was said, Sam noticed movement.

The warrior who’d spoken in English to them the night before stepped forward, sneering at him, “So the great warrior is too scared to do the test naked? If this scares you, then I think we will have our payment in blood sooner than we thought. See, my friends, I was right. They are not worthy of our protection.” The warrior turned to face the tribe, his words scornful and he folded his arms, smiling in triumph. His words were translated to the tribe and they murmured in agreement.

Dean shook himself and glared at Chuckles, as he rechristened the guy from last night. Ok, naked, no problem. But knowing what was to come, the ground was going to be hell on his feet. Ah well, time to get on with it. Dean let a cocky smirk slip onto his face, “Hey, it’s not a problem. The only thing is, has anyone here got any sun block? Being out here in the desert means sun, and I really hate the thought of getting freckles on my ass. Oh, and Sam, if I see you taking photos to show Bobby, I ain’t gonna be happy with you. I want you to look after my clothes. I don’t want any dirt in my boxers. You hear me, little brother?” He grinned at the assembled warriors and waited for Sam and Amber to come towards him.

As Sam stood next to his brother, Dean started to speak in his normal volume, “Now you gotta promise me not to go rooting through my pockets without permission, like you did in my bag last night. I hope you found everything you were looking for. You poked around in there long enough.” Dean started to shrug off his leather jacket.

Sam tilted his head to one side; he knew exactly what had been in the bag. When he’d gotten the M & Ms he’d spotted Dean’s other supplies, and without hesitation he’d carefully loosened the lid on one of the bottles, and tilted it to one side. “What do you expect? With all the crap you carry around, I was lucky to find that candy. No way was I letting that go to waste. God knows what else was in there. I was lucky not to lose a finger.” He watched as Dean’s face lit up. Good, he’d gotten the message loud and clear. But how that was going to help them he didn’t know.

By now Dean had taken off his jacket and handed it to Sam. He watched as his brother’s eyes widened when he took the jacket from him. Dean knew that Sam had felt the bulge in the pockets from the extra salt cartridges he was carrying. Then as Sam folded the jacket, his face changed again, as he felt the long cylindrical shape of the flare he’d tucked away in the extra-long inside pocket, in case of emergency. Sam nodded slightly at his brother; he knew what Dean was trying to tell him. It was their way out of the canyon if things went to hell.

Sam straightened up and looked at his brother with apprehension. He understood Dean’s intentions, and it scared him what his big brother was asking of him. But Dean was relying on him to protect the others, and he intended to do just that. Sam smiled at him, squared his shoulders and said. “What are you waiting for, bro? Or do you need me to break out the Tequila and the AC/DC so you can strip? I’d have thought you would’ve wanted to get this over with so we can get your coffee?” He hoped his voice sounded steadier than he felt

Dean returned the smile.”No, I get naked a lot quicker for a pretty girl, and you just ain’t my type, Sam.” As he said that, Dean started to take off his watch, handing it to Sam. It was quickly followed by his ring and bracelet; he paused for a moment before taking off his necklace. As he gave it to Sam he said, “I feel naked already, Sam. You take care of my stuff. You know how hot and bothered I get, if anything happens to it, right?” Dean started to unbutton his shirt; he stepped away from Sam and Amber as he did. The time for talking was done; he wasn’t going to put this off any longer.

Dean stripped off his overshirt; he threw it to Amber and winked at her when she caught it. Dean knelt down and unfastened his boots, pulled them off and then took off his socks, putting them inside. Dean stood up and undid his belt, pulling it free of his jeans. Dean paused again. Despite all his bravado, he loathed the idea of being naked in front of all these people; it made him vulnerable. Without his leather jacket and jewellery, he felt bare in more than just the physical sense. It felt as if part of him had been stripped away.

He took a deep breath and dismissed his emotions; he heard his Dad’s voice saying “It’s just another hunt, Dean. Now get on with it.” In a decisive move he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Again he tossed the clothing to Amber, and he noticed that the soft sounds of appreciation from the ladies in the group turned to gasps, when his bruised body was revealed.

As she caught the T-shirt, Amber looked at it and her mind drifted. She had been puzzled by the brothers’ conversation. She’d been expecting something a little more profound than a discussion about Dean’s bag and its contents, and how to get him to strip faster. She got the feeling a lot more was being said than she comprehended. She’d have to ask Sam what had been going on.

Now she studied the two men. Sam was stood, watching his brother, trying to appear relaxed to keep Dean at ease, and Dean was doing exactly the same. She saw the looks Dean threw his little brother - glances of reassurance and sly smirks, as he took off his clothing, making Sam grin and shake his head at his antics.

Once again he was playing the fool. Hell, Dean had even swivelled his hips when he took his belt off, and she was surprised he hadn’t thrown it to her friends. Instead he’d given it to her. As she’d collected the strip of leather, she’d glanced at the small pile of jewellery in Sam’s hand. He’d been looking at it, and then he’d put the jewellery in his pocket. She thought about the ‘naked’ comment, and she understood Dean felt his identity was being taken away from him with each piece of clothing he took off.

But he couldn’t be more wrong. What was being revealed wasn’t just skin, but his true nature. He was uncomfortable with what was happening - him being the centre of attention, despite his good looks and bluster. There was a shyness and vulnerability to Dean that she suspected very few people saw.

His clothes were his armour and now he was being forced to shed it. It made Dean feel helpless; stripped completely before everyone watching. Now they were seeing the man revealed, not the tough bad boy image he wanted everyone to see. What was left on display was the brave and selfless soul, ready to lay down his life for them.

Amber was startled from her thoughts by gasps. She focused on Dean once more and her own gasp escaped. When he’d said last night it was only a few bruises, the hunter had been seriously understating his injuries. His ribs were a patchwork of purples and black, and finally she saw the source of blood from yesterday. There was a piece of gauze taped over the left side of his ribs; Amber presumed it was a cut of some sort. Then she spotted the fresh bruise from the rifle butt he’d gotten in the ribs. She watched as Dean absently curled his arm across his stomach, again in a subconscious gesture of protection against watching eyes.

Amber could hear some of what her friends were saying, “Damn, that’s one hell of a body.” Sara said in an appreciative tone.

Then another voice, “Jesus, look at his ribs!”

Jim added in shock, “Holy crap, have you seen his back?”

Finally Daryl spoke in a shocked tone, “To hell with all that. Have you seen those scars?”

The last comment made her look closely at Dean. For the first time she saw the scars that adorned Dean’s back and chest. She glanced over to Sam; he didn’t seem too bothered by their reaction. It was as if he’d heard it all before.

Amber leant closer to Sam, “What the hell happened to him? When he said bruises, I didn’t think he meant someone had kicked the crap out of him.” She was waiting for Sam to answer her.

“Don’t worry, Amber. Just a little professional disagreement. Some guys didn’t like the way I played pool. Ladies, you may want to avert your eyes. I’ve got to take my jeans off and I’d hate for you to get over excited.” It was Dean who responded to her question, and then he undid his jeans and stepped out of them, along with his boxers. He picked the rest of his clothing up, and stood there, apparently unconcerned at his nakedness. The hunter then swaggered over. Once again he gave off the familiar air of confidence, offering a challenge to everyone in the canyon. He handed the rest of his clothes to Amber. He gave her a wink and a smile, as if handing all his clothes over and going off to be tortured was just a normal Saturday for him.

Dean turned away and walked towards Great Bear. He called out to Sam, “Now don’t forget, look after my stuff, bitch. I’ll be back later for it, and it had better all be there.” Dean straightened his back and steeled himself for what was to come.

Sam went to move forward then two warriors approached and stood in front of him, indicating that this was as far as they went. Sam glanced over to Amber. She was watching what was happening, and the warrior who had sneered at Dean was stood beside him, obviously ready to translate Great Bear’s words.

“Relax. We’ll be able to get closer in a minute, but these words are for the warrior undertaking the test. We just have to be patient, Sam. Ok?” Her words calmed the sudden agitation that gripped the young man.

As Sam watched Dean walking closer to the chief he was doing his best to remain calm. He hated being this far away from him at a time like this, but Amber had promised they would be moved closer. So for now he would have to wait.

Amber was watching the ghosts now. As Dean came to a halt in front of the War Chief and several of his council members, she saw the way they studied Dean. She knew they were taking in the bruises and the scars; that many of the men there would carry their own scars. Although she had the feeling that none of theirs would be the result of battling monsters. Well, not the kind of monsters Sam and Dean faced. Theirs had been the human kind. She glanced around the faces and saw a grudging respect growing in the eyes of those looking at Dean, acknowledging the battles he’d fought to gain those marks. Now when it mattered, he was quiet, the wisecracks had stopped. Dean was at peace with what he’d done, and he was ready for whatever was to come.

While she waited for them to be called forward she thought about the brothers and their interactions, and the close bond they shared. She looked up at Sam who seemed to be barely breathing, his eyes fixed on his brother. Amber spoke softly, “I think I finally understand your life. The hunts are dangerous and some of them leave reminders, don’t they? Every one of those scars Dean and no doubt, you, carry, remind you of a hunt survived and people saved. I bet you know every hunt those scars represent.” She glanced up at Sam.

Sam stopped staring at Dean and looked down at Amber’s upturned face. There was a look of sadness there, and he managed a smile, “No, not all of them, Amber. There are some I don’t know how he got, or who looked after him when he was hurt.”

There was such sadness in Sam’s voice as he spoke that Amber felt her own heart break a little, “How did that happen, Sam. I could never imagine you and Dean being apart.” She reached out and gently touched his arm to comfort him.

Sam shrugged, “What can I say? I decided I didn’t want to be a hunter when I grew up. So I went away to college for four years. Dean and I didn’t speak for a long time, and then I got pulled back into the life. I’ve only just come to realize it was hunting I wanted to leave behind, not Dean. Now when he gets hurt and I patch him up, I’m faced with those reminders of hunts where I should’ve been to watch his back. Never again, Amber. He might be a loud-mouthed, over-protective jerk at times.....” Sam’s voice faded as his eyes were drawn back to Dean, stood alone without him by his side.

Amber understood now, “Yes, but he’s your loud-mouthed over-protective jerk, right? And you’d die before you said that to him. Am I right?” She grinned at Sam, and suddenly a genuine smile lit up his face.

“Too damn right. All he’d say is ‘no chick flick moments, Sam’. Hey, Amber, what’s happening now?” Sam had noticed that whatever was happening between Dean and the chief was breaking up.

Amber turned and looked over. She could feel the anticipation in the air, the time for speaking was over. She felt Sam tense beside her, and she knew she wouldn’t have to explain this to him. Now they all watched as the warriors moved towards Dean. As one of them took hold of his wrists and pulled them in front of him, making him cross them so he could be tied. Amber thought about the brothers once more.

At first she thought their words to one another held no meaning, but in every piece of banter, every bitch or jerk it had been there, loud and clear. Love, affection, and even reassurance. They may not have been able to say those chick flick words out loud to one another, but everything they did for each other shouted them instead. Dean last words to his brother had been the unspoken promise to come back.

Now they all stood watching helplessly as Dean’s wrists were bound together with a piece of rope. The warrior doing it, tugged at the binding, nodded and stepped back, pleased with his work. Then Dean was taken by the arms and led towards the back of the canyon. The warriors stepped out of the way, and Sam, Amber, and the rest of them followed behind.

When Dean had stood in front of Great Bear, the chief had gone over the rules of the Trial. First and foremost had been simply to survive. Then the chief had added that the final decision over whether Dean had passed the Trial lay with him. That concerned Dean, but for now he’d concentrate on getting through this in one piece before worrying about what the chief meant. Then a warrior had come forward and begun to tie his wrists together. At first he’d tensed as other warriors approached him. His fight or flight instincts set firmly to fight then he willed himself to relax and let the ghosts do as they wanted.

Once he was tied, the ghostly warriors turned him around and began to lead him to the back of the canyon. Dean risked a quick look over at Sam as he was being led past. He could see the worry on his little brother’s face, making him seem much younger than he was. For a second he’d faltered seeing Sam looking so young and lost; he hated seeing that look in Sam’s eyes. It had been there when he’d lost Jess and then again when he’d lost Dad, but he was damned if Sam was going to lose him today. He’d beat this. He’d keep Sammy and the others safe. He made them a promise, and he always kept his promises.

Dean noticed that as they walked, most of the tribe moved with them and he knew that Sam wasn’t far behind him. Dean looked ahead to where he was being taken then he saw a tree. It must’ve been impressive once when it was alive, probably when Great Bear and his men had occupied the canyon. But now like the other occupants of the canyon it was long dead and skeletal. Then as they neared it he gasped softly. The tree seemed to be coming back to life; it was like watching one of Sammy’s nature documentaries with the time delayed filming. The trunk turned from a deathly gray, to a rich brown, and leaves unfurled on the branches.

He couldn’t help but be impressed by the amount of power it took to do that. For a split second he considered telling Sam to run, in the hope the ghosts themselves would be weakened. He knew they would be gunned down; this was just to show them just what the tribe was capable of in this sacred place.

Dean stood in front of the tree, and then he was spun round. He tried not to flinch when he saw the entire tribe gathered in front of him, along with his brother, Amber and her friends. He licked his lips nervously then he took a steadying breath. He saw one warrior swinging the end of the rope he was tied by, and then it was launched high above his head over a sturdy branch.

Dean took another deep breath and forced himself to relax. As the end of the rope hit the ground, a warrior picked it up. Then he and several other warriors took hold of it. They began to pull on the rope and Dean felt the rope go taut. Slowly his arms were raised by the rope being pulled over the branch.

Dean was slowly being hauled up off the ground, as his arms stretched up over his head. He felt the dull throb of his bruises beginning to wake up and become more insistent. Then he was pulled onto his toes as he desperately tried to keep his footing knowing what was coming. As his feet left the ground his full weight was taken by his wrists, arms and his shoulders. He gritted out softly, “Son of a bitch.” His shoulders burned with the strain, and where the pool cue had struck, felt as if it had caught fire, and it was shooting red-hot jolts down the length of his back. The hunter closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. He jerked slightly as the rope was tied off and he was left swing gently back and forth.

Sam had followed his brother closely and he too had been stunned by the changing of the tree. Then all the wonder of that display was forgotten as he watched Dean being strung up by his wrists. He bit down on his lip when Dean’s feet left the floor. He knew how painful hanging from the wrists was, but add in the bruising along his shoulders and Dean must’ve been in agony. As Dean’s face contorted Sam felt the air rush out of his lungs. He was just going to ask Amber just what the hell this was supposed to test when a familiar voice stopped him.

“Hey guys, how long you gonna leave me hanging about for?” Dean’s voice was breathy and strained, again his words were translated. There was a mixture of laughter and angry mutterings once more.

Sam shook his head in exasperation; trust Dean to say something like that. He lifted his eyes, and they met his brother’s. They were filled with a mixture of pain and a defiant amusement then there was a flicker of something else. Sam noticed a group of women were moving towards the tree, walking with a sense of purpose. They all carried switches in their hands, made from thin branches of the same tree. Sam’s eyes grew wide as he realized what was about to happen.

Dean was hoping his little joke would try to stop Sam from looking as if his head was going to explode. If he was this bad now, he hated to imagine what he was going to be like later, and he needed him to be clear headed, just in case. Then Dean had seen the women approaching him. Amber had warned him what would happen; as they got nearer he considered his options. He could pull his knees up to his chest to protect little Dean and the boys, or he could just hang there. If he went through with his first plan, it would put even more strain on his bruised shoulders, and drain precious strength from his body. Making a silent apology to his family jewels Dean lowered his head, closed his eyes and waited.

The women surrounded Dean, and for a moment nothing happened. They stood still, waiting. Then as if they’d been given a signal they started to lash Dean with the switches they carried. Dean jerked and twisted under the assault, as the women beat him.

Sam felt sick. He wanted to look away from what was happening, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his helpless brother being beaten by the angry spirits. He tried to find his voice. At first he failed and finally he managed to speak, “What the fuck is this supposed to test, Amber? How much pain he’s willing to take?” Sam’s voice shook with his own pain as he asked the question.

Amber was watching the grisly spectacle with a feeling of shame that her own people could do this kind of thing. She dashed away a tear that had started to spill down her face, “It’s a test of strength, Sam.” She flinched when a particularly hard strike to Dean’s back rocked him forward.

Sam looked around at the watching spectators; they were all excited by what they were seeing. He was sure that some of them were taking bets on whether Dean would survive this. He turned his face to Amber’s friends. The girls were crying softly and the men were trying to comfort them. Daryl stood alone with his injured arm, cradled against him. His face was haggard and he seemed to be suffering through this with his brother, each blow making him flinch.

“Please, Amber, you have to tell them to stop. God! This is horrible.” Sam recognized the voice. It was Sara, and she started to sob.

Finally Sam found Great Bear, standing a little way apart from his warriors. His back was straight and he, too, was watching Dean intently. It was as if he was checking Dean for any sign of weakness, and hoping that there was none. That his chosen champion would live up to his faith in him.

At last Sam turned his attention back to his brother. With every vicious blow that landed, with each twist and turn of that battered body, he felt Dean’s agony as acutely as if it was his own. The women continued to circle his brother, scourging as they went, “How long, Amber? How long will they keep this up?” There was desperation to his voice as he asked the question.

Amber turned to look at Sam, and the pain in his eyes nearly tore her apart. Dean was being beaten physically, but Sam’s heart was taking the same kind of beating. Last night when Dean had said he had the easy job today, she’d thought he’d been joking but now, watching Sam, she knew Dean had been right. She had to answer that pain-filled question, “Until they’re finished.”

At those words they heard Daryl groan, “It should’ve been me. Shit, they’re gonna kill him and I’m just standing here like the damn cowardly prick I am. To hell with it! I’m going to stop this!” Daryl made to move forward.

Sam never took his eyes off his brother and he spoke sharply, “No one is moving or doing anything stupid. He’ll get through this. Dean’s been through worse, believe me. Now if we want to help him, we have to keep our heads, so you’ll do as I tell you.” Sam’s voice was low and raw, filled with a quiet authority.

The group all looked at Amber, stunned at Sam’s words. She glanced at Sam and saw the resolve in his face, and knew what it had cost him to say those words. She returned the look and gave a slight nod, acknowledging Sam’s leadership. She watched her friend’s body language change from defeated, to readiness to do whatever Sam asked of them.

Dean felt as if his skin was being torn from his body. The constant rain of blows was making it almost impossible for him to catch his breath. His lungs felt as if they were on fire and his chest heaved as he desperately struggled to draw enough air into them. He could feel wetness on his ribs and he knew the gauze was gone and the bullet graze had been torn open again. He grunted as one of the switches hit his bruised tender kidneys. He panted through gritted teeth; he could do this. He’d been through worse; he just had to ride this out. He concentrated hard and controlled his breathing, slowing it down; he lifted his head and took a final look at Sammy. He drew strength from his little brother’s presence then he closed his eyes once more, letting his head fall forward. He let himself drift away, locking himself behind the walls he had in place for this kind of situation.

Amber was biting her nails, getting ready to go over to Great Bear, and beg them to stop, and to hell with the consequences. She turned to Sam to speak to him. She knew what he’d told them but she couldn’t bear the sight of this much longer. Her friends were the same. They too had dropped their eyes from the dangling figure that spun and jerked in a grotesque parody of a dance, as the women continued their appointed torture.

As she got ready to ask Sam if they should just try to run, he started to speak. She had to listen very hard to him as his words were so quiet. “There is something you should know about Dean and how he copes with pain. For instance, the bullet graze. When I treated it he bitched and whined, but that was fine. Minor injury, the louder he gets the more minor it is. That kind of pain, I can deal with easily. I know he’ll be fine.” Sam’s eyes never left Dean; it was as if he was waiting for something.

Amber looked around the canyon. The tribe was still watching, even some of the ghosts were looking away. Not Great Bear. He watched every strike, and she knew the chief was willing Dean to hold on. She pulled her attention back to Sam. “Ok, so fairly minor stuff he bitches and whines. What about the more serious stuff?” She bit her lip in worry, wondering what Sam was going to say.

“Well, if he’s really hurt, then he goes quiet. He locks the pain away inside. He keeps his ’game face’ on so he won’t scare Sammy. Amber, I watched as my dad and Pastor Jim held Dean down after a Werewolf nearly tore his guts out. As Bobby stitched them back inside, he barely made a sound. The only thing he kept doing was asking if I was alright.” Sam flinched back as the women seemed to redouble their efforts, and managed to hit Dean harder.

“Is that it? You think he’s badly hurt? Crap, Sam, they’ve only just got started. If there is a plan B you might want to start warming it up.” Amber tried to remain calm. Her friends couldn’t hear what was going on. If they did they would panic and try to run.

Finally Sam managed to tear his eyes away from his injured brother. He’d seen Dean look at him and then close his eyes and he knew what was happening. He looked down at Amber’s panic-stricken face, “But if he’s hurt on a hunt, and he has no option but to press on, then Dean shuts himself away, he hides from it. Dad always knew when it happened; he used to say Dean had left the building. He’s just done it again; trust me, he’ll make it now. They could beat him all day and they’d get no reaction. It’s us who need to keep it together now. Do you think you can do that for me? For Dean?” Sam gave her a gentle smile.

Amber nodded, vowing that whatever either of these extraordinary young men needed her to do then she would do it. She pulled herself together, and turned back to the older Winchester. If Sam could watch this then she could too. She managed not to flinch as the women continued, then one woman called out, and they finished with a flourish of blows.

It was like Sam said; it was as if Dean as nothing more than a piece of meat being tenderized. There was no reaction from him to the blows. Finally the women halted, turned away from him and stepped away. They huddled together, talking amongst themselves. As they did Amber forced herself to take in the damage they’d inflicted on Dean.

He hung there limply, his chest heaving as his body fought to draw enough air into stressed lungs; his hair was drenched with sweat and stuck to his head. His body was covered in welts, criss-crossing nearly every inch of his skin. Amber saw fine tremors wracking his body as the tortured muscles in his arms and shoulders shook with the strain of being tied like that. She noticed that some of the welts were deep enough to bleed, and the bruises that the hunter already carried had deepened in colour. The gauze that covered the graze was long gone and that too was bleeding. Dean’s eyes were closed, and he was still locked away wherever it was he hid away from the pain.

Dean was vaguely aware of what was going on around him, still drifting far away from the pain and abuse his body was suffering. He’d heard the shout and suddenly the blows had stopped. Now he was just hanging there, waiting for whatever happened next. Part of him wanted to remain where he was, safely locked away from the agony waiting for him. But the hunter knew he had to return. He had a hunt to finish, and people to protect. Slowly Dean began the journey back to the outside world.

The women still talked amongst themselves and Sam’s eyes darted around the canyon. There was an air of expectation, as if collective breaths were being held. Finally the woman, who had called a halt to the beating, looked over to Great Bear and nodded. As one the women let out a keening cry, they threw the switches on the ground, and walked back to the rest of the tribe.

Sam watched them go, “I take it that’s over, and Dean’s passed this test, right? Now what?” As he asked the questions, he glanced over to the chief. There seemed to be a look of relief on his face that Dean had made it through the test. The he returned his attention to Amber. She too was watching events with interest then she motioned with her head to where one of the warriors was approaching the rope that bound Dean in place.

In one swift motion the warrior slashed the rope with a knife and Dean crashed to the ground. He staggered a few steps to the side, but managed to keep his footing. He was hunched over, ghosts and the living all waiting with bated breath to see what happened next.

Dean’s journey back was nearly done when he felt himself he hit the ground - the shock of it jolted him back into his body. And damn, he really wished it hadn’t. His arms felt like lead and at the moment he couldn’t feel them. But he knew very soon he’d be wishing they were still numb. If he thought he’d been hurting earlier, this was a whole different ball game. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t throb or ache. His skin felt raw and stretched too tightly over strained muscles. His legs were shaky, and his head felt way too heavy for his neck to support.

Dean took a slow deep breath, “Suck it up, Winchester. You made it through the first part, now get your shit together.” The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Dad, and an order. It was a combination he could never ignore. Slowly he straightened up, lifted his head and the first thing he looked for was Sam. Green eyes fixed onto a pair of slanted hazel ones, and Dean drew strength from those concerned eyes. There....was the reason he was doing this, along with Amber and her friends. He was going to make it through this.

Sam had felt his stomach lurch when Dean had hit the ground, and watched him stagger. The desperate effort it took for him to remain on his feet, made Sam’s hands itch. He wanted to go over to his brother and help him, just to get him steady on his feet. Then Dean had looked at him. His dazed and pained-filled eyes had met his, and suddenly the focus returned and he knew his brother was back with him.

Dean was taking shallow breaths, to try and ease the burning in his chest while he had the chance. He knew this was just a short respite, to let him catch his breath. Now the feeling was starting to come back in his shoulders and arms, and it made him feel sick. Wave after wave, of what felt like hot needles jabbing into the muscles, made him want to scream. Instead he concentrated on breathing through it. He managed to roll his neck from side to side, and he did the same with his shoulders, ignoring the howling protests his muscles gave.

Dean relaxed as best he could; he knew that soon the next test would begin. Looking over at his brother, he smirked and called out, “You know, for some strange reason, I’m starting to have a lot of sympathy for Piñatas, Sammy. By the way, ladies, I get that one of you liked my ass, but did you have to show your appreciation by continually hitting it?” Dean’s voice was hoarse, and he grinned over at the expressions of shock on Amber and her friends’ faces. Sam had just gone for Bitch Face No. 13, and he was waiting for the time-old response.

Sam folded his arms, rolled his eyes and huffed out, “That’s not funny, Dean.” Sam replied in his best prissy maiden aunt tone.

Dean smiled to himself. ‘That’s my boy’ he thought. He responded as usual, “Ahh, come on, it’s a little funny. Now if you’ll excuse me, it looks like it’s time for my morning run.” As he’d been speaking, Dean had seen Chuckles move forward and pick up the end of the rope. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a warrior approach the horses. He’d untied one, leapt on its back and was riding towards him. As the rider and horse wheeled past, Chuckles threw the end of the rope to him; it was caught with ease.

Dean braced himself as he watched the rope start to move. Before he was pulled off his feet, he started to run. The warrior was riding for the mouth of the canyon. As he jogged past he took a final look at his brother, managing to wink as he went by.

Sam watched in horror as his brother was pulled behind the rider. He grabbed Amber’s arm and hissed, “What the hell are they testing now?” Sam’s voice was ragged, as he tried to recover from seeing Dean being beaten without mercy.

Amber was also staring after the figure, running through the canyon. She answered the question. “This is the endurance test, Sam.”


	11. Chapter 11

The way of the warrior, chapter 10.  
  
  
  
  
“This is the endurance test, Sam.” Amber watched as Dean ran out of the canyon and she looked up at Sam to see what he wanted to do.  
  
At Amber’s words Sam looked around the canyon. He saw the ghosts of the tribe moving towards the canyon’s entrance. He was very tempted to just push his way through the throng to get out of there and see what was happening to Dean; instead he took a breath to calm the panic building in his mind. He could wait - he knew he’d see his brother suffering soon enough.  
  
He turned back and saw the others were waiting for him to make his move. He spotted the entrance was clear, “Come on, we need to see what’s happening out there. We stay close together, and if there is no other choice we get ready to run, ok?” Sam spoke to the group, letting them know he was in charge of their safety; after a few seconds they nodded and got ready to move.  
  
As they went to move Amber broke away from the group. She went to place Dean’s clothes and boots on top of his bag. “Sam, do you want to hand me Dean’s jacket? I’ll put it with the rest of his clothes.” She held out her hand towards him, and was surprised when he shook his head.  
  
“Amber, do me a favour? Can you put Dean’s stuff on my bag? Thanks.” As Sam spoke he watched their guards closely for any sign they understood what was being said. It didn’t seem as if they did, but Sam didn’t want to take chances. He turned and led them out of the canyon. They were closely followed by their guards. When they reached the entrance, the crowd parted and allowed them to walk to the front, to give them a clear view of how Dean was dealing with this test.  
  
By now Amber had managed to get close to Sam again, and, as before, he was watching his brother closely. She had questions for the young hunter, but she decided to wait until Sam seemed ready to talk to her. Now she too turned her attention to what was happening out in the desert.  
  
Dean was running, attempting to keep up with the horse and rider. The speed of the animal wasn’t designed to be too fast for a man to keep pace with, but still it was a brutal test of a body’s endurance. Dean stumbled and fell; shouts rang out some of horror, others of joy. The group watched helplessly as Dean was dragged for several feet, until he managed to haul himself back to his feet and start jogging once more. The rider changed direction in an attempt to wrong foot Dean once again. But the hunter saw it coming and changed direction easily, and continued on, pushing his already battered body to its limits and beyond.  
  
Amber couldn’t wait; she had to speak to Sam, “Ok, what gives? And why are you holding onto that jacket as if your life depends on it?” She spoke softly, so their guards couldn’t hear them. At her words the rest of their little group gathered closer. They too wanted to know what was going on, and if they really did have a way out of here if Dean failed.  
  
Sam risked a quick glance around; he relaxed a little when he realized that everyone’s attention was on his brother’s struggle to keep running. “Ok, Dean had a Plan B in mind if things went wrong during the Trial, and right about now he’s helping me put it into motion.” He flinched as he watched his brother narrowly avoid a collision with a thorn covered bush. Then his heart leapt into his mouth, as Dean nearly lost his footing once more.  
  
His vigil was disturbed once again by Amber, “How the hell can he be putting anything into motion, while he’s having his ass dragged all over the desert out there?” She hissed urgently and looked around at her friends; they were as puzzled as she was at Sam’s comment.  
  
Sam sighed; he really didn’t want to have to say this out loud. He knew what Dean had in mind. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to do what Dean had asked of him, if he had no other choice but to put the plan into action. Sam clutched the jacket in his hands even tighter, “Put it this way. Dean’s figuring out how far we’d have to run before the ghosts run out of juice.” At that, all eyes turned to the figure struggling in the distance, as he was towed behind the horse. He ran, jogged and desperately tried to stay on his feet.  
  
“I thought Dean said it would be impossible to escape with the tribe chasing us, and shooting at us.” Jim asked that question, wondering what the brothers had up their sleeves.  
  
Sam sighed; he had no choice but to explain Dean’s risky measures for their escape. It felt that if he said it out loud he was tempting Fate. “My brother tends to take a very straightforward view of dealing with problems. If the appeasement ritual had failed last night, he definitely had a back-up plan to deal with the ghosts... Shit, Dean!” His anguished shout made the others look out into the desert once more.  
  
Dean had fallen once again, dragged further this time, and just avoided being dragged into a rock by rolling out of the way. As he did that, he wrapped the rope around the rock. The rider was nearly pulled off his horse when Dean did that, and it gave him precious seconds to get back to his feet and catch his breath. He smirked at the enraged rider, and then he finally loosened the rope from around the rock. “Come on, dude, we’re burning daylight here, and I ain’t tired yet.” His voice was beyond hoarse. It was more of a ragged whisper as his lungs burned from the exertion and his throat was parched.  
  
Dean was ignoring his body’s protests; there was no point in listening to them anyway. There was nothing he could do to ease the pain in his stressed and exhausted limbs. He could feel the sweat running down his skin, stinging when it came into contact with the welts that had bled. Now he waited for the rider to spur his horse forward once more, and a thought crossed his mind, almost making him laugh out loud. Dean thought ‘thank God dad never thought of this’, otherwise he would’ve spent his Saturdays being pulled behind the Impala, instead of running endless laps. He took one last deep breath as the horse bolted forward, and once again he was running.  
  
Sam relaxed when Dean managed to give himself a few seconds recovery time. He looked at the others and saw similar expressions of relief. He carried on where he left off. “Remember what Dean said about napalming the canyon? Well, he wasn’t exactly joking. When I looked in his bag last night I didn’t just find candy, I found his back-up supplies.” Sam paused when another warrior came close, and waited until he went by.  
  
When Sam said that, it was as if a switch was thrown in Amber’s mind, “Holy crap! That’s what you two were on about before the trial started. All that ‘hot under the collar’ stuff and ‘what’s he got in that damn bag’. But how’s it gonna help us escape, Sam?” Amber glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.  
  
Sam smiled at the shaman. She’d grasped the hidden meaning to the conversation between him and his brother. “As I said, Dean likes to have a back-up plan in place if our original plan doesn’t pan out. In this case he was carrying enough accelerant, and extra flares to burn out most of the canyon if there was no other choice. As for helping us, if it looks like Dean is gonna fail then he wants me to set fire to the bag and run like hell.” There was raw pain in his voice as he said those words out loud, as he was finally forced to acknowledge the possibility of Dean dying here.  
  
There was silence, and then a small explosion of sound as everyone started talking at once. Amber calmed everyone down as quickly as possible, in case they attracted unwanted attention. Finally as the voices died away, Daryl stepped closer to Sam, his face thunderstruck.  
  
“That’s your brother’s fucking great escape plan? Just blow up a bag full of gas. Then hope we get far enough away before Great Bear and the tribe come after us and kill us? What are you gonna do? Carry Dean over your shoulder? Because I really don’t think he’s going to be up to running very fast after this.” Daryl pointed out towards where the Trial still continued. The figures had gotten even smaller as they went further out.  
  
Sam gave Daryl a tight lipped smile as he fought the urge to reach over and grab the man around the throat. Instead he explained the rest of Dean’s escape strategy. “Not quite, Daryl. The explosion is a distraction to help us get moving out of the canyon. If everything does go to shit then I’m going to use the spare flare in Dean’s jacket to set fire to the bag. Last night when I was searching his bag, I opened one of the cans of gas. When the bag blows we run for the canyon’s entrance.” He paused, marshalling his thoughts.  
  
Sam looked around and spoke again, “I’ll be behind you. I’ve got spare rock salt cartridges, and I’ll break them open and lay down salt lines. Thanks to Captain Stoneman and his dynamite, the entrance has been narrowed, so it shouldn’t take too long.  
  
“No matter how powerful they are, they are still ghosts, and the salt lines should hold them. Then we run to where we left our shotguns. Once we reach them, I’ll give you cover while you run as far as you need to, just in case they do manage to break through.” Sam fell silent, watching the reaction of the others to the plan.  
  
There were looks of fear, as they considered what Sam had said. Finally Chris spoke, “Sam, it’s suicide. We still don’t know how far Great Bear and his men can go before they fade. And how the hell are you gonna get Dean out?” He looked at Sam wondering what the answer was, fear plain in his eyes.  
  
Amber had been listening. Everything suddenly became clear as she looked out to where Dean seemed to be leading the rider further out. He was doing that by forcing his beaten body out to the full extent of the rope, and somehow he was managing to stay level with the rider.  
  
She kept her eyes on the hunter as he staggered, then righted himself and ran on. “If that happens, Dean won’t be coming with us, will he, Sam? Dean knew that when he decided to do this. When I explained the Trial to him last night, he saw the endurance test as the perfect way to find out where the ghosts lose their solid form. He’s doing this to show us how far we will have to run to reach safety.” Her words were filled with both sadness and admiration for both of the Winchesters. There was Dean, ready to sacrifice his life for them, putting himself through hell, in order to give them even the slightest chance to escape. Then there was Sam, faced with the hardest part of all - the prospect of having to leave his brother with the angry ghosts to get them to freedom.  
  
There was an outcry amongst the others telling Sam he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave Dean behind, not after everything he was going through.  
  
Sam shook his head, “No, I have to get you to safety. I promised Dean. This is our Hail Mary Play. If there is no other way, and believe me, if we have to do this....then Dean will most likely be....” Sam couldn’t bring himself to say the words.  
  
Amber reached out and put her hand on his arm. He and his brother were sacrificing enough for them; it was time to help out. “Ok, ladies and gentlemen, this is what we are going to do. Chris, Jim, take some of the cartridges off Sam. When we get back in the canyon, stay at the rear of the group, ready to move. If Sam gives you the signal, break them open and get to the canyon’s entrance and lay the first row of salt lines. Sam, hand me Dean’s jacket. We all know the ghosts are watching you as closely as they’re watching Dean. If you try to get to the bag they’ll stop you. I think they might not take as much notice of me. Please, Sam, let me do this; I’ll get to the bag and drop the flare in it.” Amber’s face was determined and she held out her hand towards Sam. After a few seconds he slowly handed the jacket to her. Amber slipped it around her shoulders, and smiled. She had one more thing to say to everyone.  
  
She looked right at Sam and spoke, “Besides, something tells me, once we get clear, Sam won’t be coming with us. He’ll go back for his brother - he won’t leave him alone in there.” When Sam didn’t deny it, she smiled at him.  
  
Amber wanted to rally her troops, “Now we all need to do is trust in Dean to get through this, and be the warrior that Great Bear, me and Sam, know he is. And let’s keep our fingers crossed that these two don’t have to blow up our sacred ground. Now, we all ready to do this? Are we gonna be as strong for Dean, as he is being for us?” She took in the small group of friends with a glance, and waited as they looked out at the hunter running for all their lives. They nodded as one.  
  
Sam felt a wave of gratitude wash over him towards Amber. No wonder Dean had such a soft spot for the woman. She’d managed to convince her friends that this was the only way if things went wrong, and she’d also got them to promise to help. Now everything was in her brother’s hands. He offered a silent prayer that Dean would have the strength to finish this.  
  
Dean ran on, keeping a constant watch on both the terrain and the ghostly rider who held the rope. The rough and uneven ground was brutal on his bare feet, and every step sent shock waves of pain through an already exhausted and battered body. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the sweat dripping in his eyes. He saw another large rock coming up. He could either go right and try and dislodge the rider, or go left and save putting even more strain on his mistreated shoulders. Dean feinted left; there was no need to alert the rider to what he was doing.  
  
Ever since the trial had begun, he’d been luring the rider further away from the canyon and the ghosts sacred ground. Dean was certain that at some point the rider would start to flicker and behave like a normal ghost. It didn’t seem as if he’d managed to get far enough out yet. Just then the rider turned sharply and rode right at him. Dean swore under his breath; he knew why he’d done that. He’d managed to stay on his feet longer this time, and the rider was trying to unbalance him and get him to fall.  
  
Dean weighed his options. He could play chicken and hope the rider would veer away at the last second; he could dive out of the way and get dragged behind the horse again. He shook his head at that, twice was more than enough of that. Or he could force heavy, tired legs to a greater effort. Dean managed a sprint, veering out to the right, and the rider rode past. His lungs burned as he moved. His skin felt hot and tight as it turned red underneath the merciless sun as he watched the rider turn his horse out of the corner of his eye. The horse thundered towards him, and as it clipped him, he spun and fell. Again he was being dragged. Shit! He had to get to his feet. He had almost no control when he was dragged, every piece of debris, even the smallest pebble became like shrapnel, cutting into him.  
  
Dean was struggling desperately to get to his feet. For a second he thought he heard his Dad’s voice again, “Come on, Dean, get up. If you don’t, you know what’s gonna happen to Sammy and the others.” Those words, either real or imagined, spurred him on. He pulled on the rope, dug his feet in hard and pushed against the ground. It had the desired effect; he was jerked up, and managed to get his feet beneath him once more. And then, God, was it? He blinked and yes, the rider was wavering. Suddenly Dean could see through horse and rider. He gave a grim smile as he saw another large rock approaching.  
  
This time he didn’t bother hiding what he was about to do. He aimed right for the rock, and before the rider could react he wrapped the rope around it. The rider was jerked back violently and came off his horse. But better still Dean felt his bonds giving. When the rider fell, he let go of the rope. The hunter grabbed the chance with both hands. He stepped back until, “Yessss! Well, don’t just lie there, buddy. I’m sure you got better things to do today than just lie there, catching some sun.” As he taunted the ghost, the rope around his wrists vanished and Dean raised his arms in triumph. In the distance he could see figures leaping up and down. He managed a smile; he’d given Sam the answer he’d need if he didn’t make it. Now it was time to finish this.  
  
Then the ghost sprang to his feet. They looked at one another, and then the ghost turned back to the canyon and started to run. Dean followed suit, and soon hunter and ghost were running side by side in a race.  
  
When Dean had stumbled the last time, the women had screamed, and Sam had taken an involuntary step forward, “Come on, get up, Dean, you can do it. Come on, man, don’t give up....YES!” Sam let a cry of joy escape when Dean got up again and began to play cat and mouse with the rider. Then Dean had faltered a little before darting towards a rock. Sam felt his heart accelerate; did that mean what he thought it did?  
  
The group watched as Dean unseated the rider, “Hey, Amber, can he do that? Holy Shit! He’s free! Go on, run! For god’s sake, get out of here. What the hell is he doing?” Eric asked as Dean started to run back towards the canyon. He looked frustrated. “He’s free. Why the hell is he running back here?” Eric was almost beside himself at the thought of Dean not making good his escape.  
  
Sam hadn’t taken his eyes off the figure in the distance, “For a start, Eric, where is Dean going to run to? You know how far it is to town, and if he runs, then Great Beat and his men will kills us. But most importantly, he’s just given me the distance we’ll have to run if there’s no other choice.” Sam looked back at Eric and smiled at the still puzzled man.  
  
“It all stems back to how we were raised. Me and Dean spent our lives training to hunt. Dad was a Marine Sergeant, he was all for physical fitness. We would spend hours running laps, and if we got into trouble, one of his favourite punishments was sending us out on long-distance runs. Dean had a flare for getting into trouble.... well, he had a flare for taking the blame for stuff I did, as well as getting into his own trouble. It meant that Dean spent a hell of a lot of time running, with dad’s favourite mantras ringing in his ears.  
  
Keep going, Dean. Speed’s only gonna get you so far, son. Do you think a Skin walker, or a Black Dog will wait for you while you catch your breath? Endurance is the key to a successful hunt.  
  
And believe me, Dean has plenty of endurance. I can out pace him over short distances, but Dean can run all day if he has to.” Sam stopped speaking, his mind going back to the endless weekends he sat watching Dean train, doing everything he could to make his dad proud of him, being the good son.  
  
Sam’s trip down memory lane was disturbed by Amber, “You said Dean had given you the distance. You can tell how far away that rock is just by looking at it?” She sounded impressed with Sam’s hunting instincts.  
  
Sam grinned; he thought about letting them continue to think that. He shook his head. “Nothing as amazing as that. One birthday, Dean brought me a watch that had a stop watch built in, and I used to time him when he ran. I even wrote down his times. The shit he gave me for that, but it became a habit. I now know how long it takes Dean to run a mile, whether he’s healthy, or sick, or injured. I still do it from time to time, just so I can tell him he’s getting old and slow.” Sam gave a wistful smile at the memories of those more innocent times spent watching his brother.  
  
Amber smiled and turned to the others and explained, “Sam’s timing how long it will take Dean to make it back, and that should give him a rough idea of the distance. Am I right?” Amber waited for Sam to confirm. He nodded then she turned back to watching Dean. “You know what? I think we should show Dean our appreciation for his efforts.....COME ON, DEAN! YOU CAN DO IT!” As she shouted, Amber started to jump up and down.  
  
For a second nothing happened, and then the other women joined in, yelling, cheering and waving, making as much noise as possible. As they continued, Eric, Jim and Chris joined in. Sam looked around at the most unlikely group of cheerleaders he’d ever seen. He added his own voice to shouts of encouragement, hoping to spur Dean on.  
  
When he’d started to run back to the canyon, his body had felt like lead. Each step felt as if he was battling through wet cement. His chest burned, and his arms felt like lengths of heavy chain, almost too heavy to lift. But with the rope gone, he was starting to get the feeling back in his arms and hands; they tingled as the blood flowed through them once more. He kept pace with the rider. His head felt heavy, and Dean knew he was starting to struggle. Everything he’d gone through in the last couple of days was starting to extract its price. From the beating in the bar, to the bullet graze and this morning’s entertainment were weakening him.  
  
He hurt all over. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t ache or throb. No wait, that wasn’t quite true - the little finger on his left hand was in pretty good shape. For the first time since this all began, Dean felt his resolve wavering, as he pushed his abused body onwards. He drew in great gulps of air, making his lungs burn and his chest tighten. He knew he should try and control his breathing, but he was just so damn tired. He’d give anything to just stop and rest. For a second his vision wavered and he stumbled. The hard desert floor was unforgiving on his bare feet, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they too were bleeding. Then he heard something. It sounded like voices, and one particular voice was louder than the rest.  
  
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Dean forced himself to lift his eyes from the desert floor. For a second he squinted into the harsh glaring light, and finally when he focused, it was a sight worth seeing. Leaping up and down, screaming their hearts out, were Sam, Amber and the rest of the group. They were calling out encouragement to him. Sam’s voice floated out over the rest and Dean fixed on that voice, a beacon guiding him back home.  
  
Every yell of, “DEAN! DEAN! Come on, Jerk! Do you want him to beat you?” Acted like a shot of adrenaline through his body. This was the reason he was doing this - to protect Sam and the others. He was a Winchester and a hunter, and Winchesters were stubborn bastards who never knew when they were beaten. Dean turned his head towards the rider beside him. He grinned at the ghost and pushed himself on, passing the ghost and leaving him behind.  
  
When Dean managed that, Amber and her friends went mad. “That’s it! Come on, Dean, you got him. He’s eating your dust.” There were whoops and cheers, as he pulled away from the ghost with an extra burst of speed from his reserves.  
  
Once again, Dean pushed the pain away. His discomfort didn’t matter; he had a hunt to finish, and there was still a lot to do. He let his world shrink down to the canyon entrance and the sound of Sam’s voice guiding him back.  
  
Sam was roaring his brother on. Hunter and ghost were close now. The younger Winchester started to walk closer to the entrance to the canyon. He wanted to be there when Dean reached it; he could still hear voices calling out encouragement. He found himself looking into Great Bear’s face. As usual it was impassive, but the warrior’s eyes told a different story. They burned with fire and Sam knew the chief was offering his own encouragement to the man fighting his way back towards them. For a second their eyes met, and Sam knew he’d been right in his assessment of the chief. He’d chosen his brother for this, and now both of them were just waiting for Dean to return.  
  
There was a shout, and Sam turned his head towards the sound. Dean was nearing the canyon. He went inside to wait for him, being careful not to block the narrow entrance and hinder Dean. He found himself being followed once more by the small group of people he was coming to rely on.  
  
Amber caught up with Sam, “He’s nearly here, Sam. What do you want us to do now?” She looked around at her friends; they were all waiting for Sam’s decision.  
  
He took a look around and nodded, “Ok, we stay together. Chris, Jim, stay at the back like Amber told you. If I think Dean’s not gonna make it I’ll signal you, and then I want the rest of you to make a lot of noise and movement. The more we distract the ghosts the better our chances.” Sam saw Dean entering the canyon, “Ok, everyone, he’s here. Get ready and fingers crossed that we don’t have to do this.”  
  
Sam fixed his eyes on his brother as he ran into the canyon. He’d left the warrior behind and now he staggered to a halt. Dean stood in the centre, breathing hard. Sam’s eyes ran the over his battered form. He was covered in bruises, scratches and welts. Sam saw that Dean was trembling from exhaustion, and again his arm wrapped around sore ribs.  
  
As the ghosts began to reappear in the canyon, Dean managed to lift his eyes to meet his brother’s. He saw how much this was hurting Sam and wished he didn’t have to put him through this. But if the alternative had been watching Sam go through this, then he’d take the sad puppy eyes every time. He managed to get his breathing under control, slowly straightening up. He hoped they would get on with the next part of the trial before his muscles stiffened and he got cramp.  
  
Dean didn’t have to wait long as Chuckles swaggered over, carrying a knife. He tensed, wondering if he was going to attack him. Then Chuckles threw the knife into the ground at his feet. The hunter glanced down, wondering if he could even hold a ghost knife.  
  
Then he heard voices and it looked like Chuckles was calling for a volunteer. Dean watched as a muscular warrior stepped forward and unsheathed his knife. Without taking his eyes off the approaching warrior, he crouched down and pulled the knife free. He wasn’t too surprised that the knife felt ‘real’ in his hand, a good weight and no doubt, sharp. He moved slowly in a circle, assessing the man in front of him.  
  
He was a few inches shorter and well built, but more importantly he was fresh. He hadn’t spent the morning doing the new and improved Jane Fonda work-out. If he survived this, Dean was going to take this to Hollywood; he’d make a fortune out of the fruit loop actors there.  
  
As Dean and the warrior sized each other up, Amber stood close to Sam, nodding towards the combatants, “The test of cunning. Dean will have to defeat him. Is he any good at hand to hand combat?” She asked looking at Sam.  
  
Just then the warrior lunged forward with the knife, and Dean managed to gracefully spin away. All previous signs of pain and exhaustion were gone, as he concentrated fully on dealing with the threat. As the ghost stumbled past, Dean kicked him behind the knee, making him fall. The warrior rolled and was back on his feet in a flash, a wary respect in his eyes for his opponent.  
  
Amber blinked at the move, shocked that Dean had managed it after what he’d been through. She and the others watched as the fighters circled one another, waiting for the right moment to strike.  
  
Sam leant down and whispered to her, “He’s ok, I suppose. I knew all those hours sparring with him might just come in useful some day.” He grinned at Amber as he said that.  
  
Dean moved forward to attack, using the knife as an extension of his arm. He glided past the warrior’s defences, and tore the sleeve of his shirt with his blade. Dean was surprised to see blood on the warrior’s arm and the momentary distraction allowed the man to counter attack. The warrior lunged forward, the knife aimed at Dean’s stomach. He cursed to himself as he twisted away, forced to block the blade’s journey. He hissed as the knife bit into the flesh of his arm, deflecting the knife from his body.  
  
Dean wheeled away, narrowing his eyes. The warrior seemed bothered by the injury to his arm; that sight gave him hope. It meant that here in the canyon the ghosts could be hurt, and if they could be hurt they could be beaten. He dropped into a crouch and moved slowly, watching for an opening, his concentration totally on the weaving figure in front of him.  
  
When the warrior had cut Dean, it had taken all of Sam’s resolve not to step forward to try and help his brother. Dean was brilliant at this type of combat. He’d taught Sam everything he knew. He’d always listened to Dean better than to Dad, and now he was watching Dean use his extensive knowledge of this type of fighting. Just then the warrior darted forward, and Dean blocked the attack, launching one of his own. His elbow came up at speed, catching the warrior under the chin, snapping his head back. The warrior retreated a little, shaking his head to clear it.  
  
“That’s it, Dean, you can take him. Come on, man.” Chris called out and once again the group began to call out encouragement to the exhausted man.  
  
Amber looked up at Sam as he watched his brother battle on. “Come on, then, Sam. Just how far have we gotta run? We should be ok but Daryl might be in trouble. All that sitting behind a desk, planning world domination means you don’t get much exercise.” She saw Sam smile at that.  
  
“Thank you very much, Amber. I’ll have you know I run three miles every night on my treadmill.” Daryl’s injured tones made everyone laugh.  
  
Sam grinned, “Thank you for that, Daryl. I’ll bear that in mind that you’re awesome at running in place. Ok, Amber, we’re looking at roughly half a mile. Use the rock where Dean got free of the rope as a landmark, alright?” Sam spoke softly to prevent them being overheard, but he wasn’t too worried as everyone’s attention was fixed firmly on the fight. Sam watched as once again the warrior struck at Dean, managing to avoid serious injury, but he took a cut along his shoulder for his trouble.  
  
Amber winced when that happened; she was worried that Dean was weakening. She saw the warrior was trying to wear the hunter down; the darting attacks followed by stepping back were all designed to tire Dean.  
  
“Sam, it seemed much further than that. The amount of time he was out there, running. Are you sure about the distance?” Amber spoke so only Sam heard the question.  
  
Sam managed to tear his eyes away from his battling brother to answer, “Based on how long it took Dean to get back, and the state he’s in, I’d say it was around half a mile. Listen, Amber, he was out there for over an hour, and they zigzagged back and forth. The rider never took a straight line. It took Dean that long to get the rider far enough out. Trust me, it’s about right. It was never going to be exact, but it’s the best I can do.....Dean, look out, damnit.” As they had been talking, the warrior had been making another series of quick attacks on his older brother, forcing the injured man to stagger back.  
  
When Dean was forced back, the warriors roared out their approval, then the warrior fighting Dean, kicked out and swept his legs from under him. Dean crashed to the floor. The knife flew from his hand and for a second he lay there stunned, trying to catch his breath. The warrior leapt for him with his knife raised high. Just in time, Dean brought his knees up to his chest as the ghost pressed down on him. Dean desperately grabbed the warrior’s hands, and held them, trying to stop the knife being forced down into his chest.  
  
Dean’s arms ached and shook as he tried to keep the warrior from stabbing him through the heart. He could hear the sounds of the tribe baying for his blood, but he could also hear Sam screaming out his name. Digging deep into his failing reserves of strength, Dean pushed hard with his knees and legs. With one last effort Dean forced his legs straight, and the warrior flew back. He rolled over and was back on his feet in a heartbeat. He staggered away, breathing hard. He began to limp and he looked disorientated.  
  
Sam felt Amber’s hand curl tightly around his arm; he ignored the way she was holding it. He knew what she was trying to ask him. Had the time come? Was Dean failing? Sam narrowed his eyes, watching his brother carefully. He wasn’t watching the distressing display of pain and weakness; he was watching Dean’s eyes. As he did he felt relief wash over him. There was no weakness in those green eyes. Dean had been luring the warrior in, now he was waiting to strike. The tribe thought Dean was unarmed and helpless but they couldn’t be further from the truth.  
  
The warrior circled the wounded man; he smiled in triumph as Dean limped, trying to keep away from him. He knew this battle was over and he would be victorious. The warrior looked over to his war chief, asking silently for permission to finish this.  
  
Great Bear looked over to the small group of people huddled together in fear, and with great sadness, he nodded his permission. It was then he focused on the tallest member of the group, his Chosen One’s younger brother, and the hope that had been dying, reignited. The younger warrior was almost smiling at the scene before him; Great Bear turned his attention back to Dean. What he saw lifted the chief’s spirits. Yes, the man was tired and in pain, but he was far from defeated. He’d carefully laid a trap for one of his best fighters. Now Dean was about to spring that trap.  
  
Dean limped backwards, watching as the warrior strutted around. He knew he was getting tired and he needed to finish the fight, the longer it went on the greater the risk he could lose. Both fighters had cuts on them from knife strikes, and Dean was aware that his strength was waning. He decided on a risky strategy to lull the warrior into a false sense of security. During the fight he made more of his exhaustion, allowing himself to take more punches and the staggering had boosted the other fighter’s confidence.  
  
In the last skirmish he’d let himself be thrown to the floor, and deliberately lost his knife. Now the warrior was preparing to move in for the kill, the ghost drew himself to his full height. With a cry, he sprang forward just as Dean had expected him to. As the ghost reached him, Dean twisted to the side, grabbed the warrior and threw him over his hip. As the ghost hit the floor, Dean followed him down, driving his knee hard into his stomach. With his right hand he twisted the wrist holding the knife hard. And with his left he squeezed the warrior’s throat.  
  
The warrior tried desperately to hang onto the knife but in the end he was forced to let go. Dean snatched up the knife and pressed it to the warrior’s throat. Silence had fallen in the canyon. All the shouts from the tribe had died, and the Sam and the others stood waiting to see what would happen next.  
  
Dean stared down into shocked brown eyes, smiling slowly. There was none of the usual easy charm in the smile. It was cold and hard, his eyes flashed with a freezing fire. Dean spoke softly, not caring if the warrior on the floor understood, relying on the tone of his voice to convey his message. “Now I don’t know what will happen if I cut your throat. Can you die again? I don’t know if that’s even possible. But I beat you, and that’s enough for me. Now you stay there like a good boy. Don’t make me change my mind.” At that Dean let go of the warrior’s throat, managing to push himself to his feet.  
  
For a moment there was silence and then Amber screamed with delight, and the rest of her friends joined in with the celebrations. Dean slowly walked the few steps away from the fallen warrior to where Chuckles stood next to Great Bear. He looked the enraged ghost in the eyes, and smirked at him, before flipping the knife into the ground at his feet. He looked over at the War Chief and gave a cheeky smile. He stood, waiting for what was going to happen next. Dean quickly glanced over his shoulder to where his brother stood.  
  
Sam watched Dean as he made his way to the ghosts, then he looked back at him. He saw Dean’s face light up with a triumphant smile, happy that he’d made it this far and more importantly as far as Dean was concerned, he and the others were still unharmed.  
  
Sam watched his brother as he stood in front of the tribe; he stood straight and met the eyes of those who would see him fail. Dean stood resolute in his defence of them, and he could see the evidence of what it was costing him to do that. He was covered in dirt from the desert, and mingled in with that was blood, sweat and bruises. Sam gave a slight smile as he looked around at the warriors. Some were wearing war paint, and looking at Dean now, he was wearing his own war paint. Dean’s body was painted in blood and pain, every cut and bruise added its own decoration, telling the story of this warrior’s journey to gain their freedom. Sam saw a movement and he tensed.  
  
Once again two warriors stepped forward and took Dean by the arms. As they were leading him past he spoke to Sam, “Hey, Sammy, having a relaxing morning? It’s just like being kids again, ain’t it? A little distance training, followed by some sparring. I thought this was supposed to be hard?” Dean’s tone was light, but his voice was hoarse and Sam could hear the strain in it.  
  
Sam folded his arms and rolled his eyes, “I’m having a relaxing time, thanks, although watching you is making me tired. Just be glad Dad isn’t here. He’d have kicked your ass for how long it took you to end that fight. You’re finally showing your age, big brother. And I’m really enjoying the sun, but I got some bad news for you, bro. I can tell you right now, I see a freckled covered ass in your future.” Sam grinned when he heard a laugh from his brother; he felt reconnected to hm.  
  
Dean looked back, “Well, chicks dig those things as well as scars. I’m gonna be even more irresistible. You still taking care of my stuff?” Dean stumbled slightly, as shaky legs struggled to keep him standing.  
  
Sam felt his chest tighten when Dean stumbled. Despite the bravado, Dean was running on fumes now. He knew his brother well enough to know that he’d reached his limit. Now he was pushing himself on, on sheer determination alone.  
  
Sam licked his lips, “Of course I’m taking care of it, but you might not get your watch back. I’ve always wanted it.” Sam was proud that he’d managed to keep his voice steady when he spoke; he refused to show any weakness to either the ghosts or to Dean. He knew his brother needed him to be strong, and if that’s what it took to get Dean through this then that was fine by him.  
  
“Hands off my watch, bitch. You want one like it, buy your own. Coming for a walk, Sam? Looks like we’re on the move again.” Dean called out, his voice calm and steady. But this last test was the one that worried him the most, and he needed his brother with him. He knew where he was being taken, and he could see signs of industry around the tree. While he’d been out for his little run, the warriors had tied a large broken branch to the trunk, making a cross shape. Dean took as deep a breath as he could manage and walked towards it as if he was talking an afternoon stroll, nothing more, and not the final part of an ordeal that would determine the survival of everyone.  
  
At Dean’s words Sam moved forward and the others came with him. As they neared the tree, he noticed the change, and looked down at Amber. Her face was serious, and he saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes.  
  
She never took her eyes from the tree or the man walking towards it as she spoke softly. “This is the final test, and the hardest part of all - the test of courage.”  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

The way of the warrior chapter 11.  
  
  
  
As Dean approached the tree and the final part of the test, he was going over what Amber had told him the night before. When Great Bear had made his offer, Dean had asked the young shaman to tell him about the Trial. She had told him what to expect and some of her words still rang in his mind. “The first part of the Trial tests a warrior’s physical abilities, but the last part of the Trial tests the heart of the warrior. The warrior has to stand and prove his courage and worth to the tribe.”  
  
Now he was facing the final Trial, Dean wondered if the Tribe would see just how weak he was. His Dad had died for him, he could’ve told him he wasn’t worth that sacrifice. That Sam would’ve been better protected if he’d died and Dad had stayed instead. He knew that Dad would’ve dealt with the whole ‘special kids’ thing better than he ever could, that all he was doing was running blind. Dad would’ve had a plan to take out the yellow-eyed bastard. Instead, all Dean could do was keep moving and try to keep Sam safe. Yeah right, he was doing such a great job of that.  
  
There had been the whole Croatoan disaster. Gordon nearly killing Sam because he had to come and rescue him, then Ava’s disappearance. Shit! The hits just kept on coming and that damn promise Sam had forced him to make about killing him if he went dark side. Jesus, Sam really would be better off without him. Hell, he’d even screwed up his brother’s chances of going back to college, with what had happened in the bank. Everything was spiralling out of his control, and he was struggling with the burden that had been placed on his shoulders by both Dad and Sam. And he wasn’t sure he had the strength to carry it; he knew he was too weak. He wasn’t the man they thought he was; he was just a fuck-up waiting to fail.  
  
Now after his deal with Great Bear he carried the fates of Sam, Amber, Daryl and the others on his already burdened shoulders. He just hoped the ghosts wouldn’t see through the wisecracks and the swagger to see the scared and lost soul he’d become since Dad had gone.  
  
He reached the tree. The warriors turned him around, pushed his back into the trunk and each one grabbed an arm, pulling them out to the sides. Then Dean felt ropes being wound around his arms tying him to the branch, stretching his arms out wide. He took a slow deep breath to centre himself, glad of the ropes in many ways. They would help to keep him upright, his limbs felt as heavy as lead and his skin felt heated and too tight on his body. Also he was so damn thirsty. He licked at dry, cracked lips, and tasted copper on his tongue. After spending the morning being beaten like a damn rug and then being dragged all over the desert, he knew his body was beginning to fail. Everywhere ached and his legs were like jelly. He just hoped they weren’t shaking too obviously, as any sign of weakness would lead to their deaths.  
  
He wasn’t frightened for himself. He didn’t care if he lived or not, but if he failed now then the ghosts would kill Sammy and the others. He had a back-up escape plan in place for them, and he knew that Sam would make sure that Amber and the rest got away. That gave him a measure of comfort. At the very least now, he’d make sure to keep the ghosts distracted if Sam had to run. He closed his eyes and promised himself that he’d do whatever it took to make sure his brother got out of there in one piece.  
  
Sam had followed the warriors who were leading his brother to the final Trial; he could see that Dean was really struggling now. Every injury was taking its toll on his battered brother; he knew it wasn’t just his body that was bruised. Dean’s heart was in a similar state. Ever since they’d lost Dad, Sam had lived in constant fear that Dean would find a way to follow Dad into death. He’d always had a cavalier attitude to his own safety, but now he was like an unstoppable force of nature, going after every ghost, demon or monster with no regards to himself at all. Dean was running headlong from one hunt to the other, in an attempt to outrun whatever was waiting for him and the other ‘special kids’. And all the while Dean tried to live up to what he saw as the family motto, ’Saving people, hunting things - the family business’. Dean needed to save as many people as possible; it was his way of coping with what life had done to him.  
  
Now it had led to Dean offering himself for this whole fucking nightmare of an ordeal. Every blow that had landed, or fall in the desert as he ran, had torn into Sam as much as it had Dean. Because Sam knew this was his brother’s way of serving penance for being alive, and Dad being dead. Dean thought he deserved this pain, but he couldn’t be further from the truth. He hated his father for what he’d made Dean promise. But he understood why Dad had done it. He knew Dean would fight for him; that he would never give up. He’d fight to the last drop of blood in his body; that he’d been Dean’s responsibility since dad had placed him in his big brother’s arms and uttered the ultimate order - ‘look after Sam’.  
  
Whether Dean would admit it or not, Sam knew that if it ever looked as if he was on the path to the dark side, then he was certain Dad wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him. But Dad had known that Dean would do everything in his power to save him, even if it cost Dean everything, including his life. There was no price he wouldn’t pay for Sam.  
  
Sam was angry with his Dad for taking advantage of Dean’s protective nature; Dad had known Dean would never kill his little brother. That when it had come down to it, Dad had taken the easy way out, perhaps unable to live with that same decision. He’d left his bother with a horrendous situation, and very little information on how to deal with it. He relied on Dean’s total loyalty to his family to get the job done, and to keep Sam safe from his destiny.  
  
Then he’d gone and done the exact same thing to Dean. Sam knew deep down when he made Dean promise to kill him, what he’d really been asking his brother to do was save him. And Dean had made that promise, although it must have ripped him apart to do it. Shit, perhaps he and Dad weren’t so different after all. Now he had to stand and watch his wounded brother drag himself through hell to protect him and the others. Just another day at the office for them really, he thought sadly.  
  
When Amber had said this was the hardest part of the Trial, he’d nearly laughed at her. If there was anyone here in this canyon with courage, it was his big brother. It was something that he was only just coming to understand. Dean’s whole life had been about courage. A cocky facade that hid deep, deep wounds, he remembered what Dean told Lucas Barr, and he could not imagine the courage it must have taken just for a small child to go through each day with that knowledge, let alone look after his younger brother as he did so. Then at every new school or town, Dean had been there to take care of him, even when he hadn’t wanted it. Fending off child services, even though he was a kid himself, just to make certain their little family stayed together.  
  
He carried on that protection now, throwing himself in front of Sam whenever there was danger, having his back on hunts. And of course, his unending ability to piss off any fugly he could, to ensure they focused on him and not his little brother.  
  
Now once again Dean was being called on to show courage above and beyond any call of duty. Sam knew his brother was tired and hurting but he had faith that he could do this; there was nothing Dean couldn’t do, once he set his mind to it. But there was a part of him that knew deep down, courage wasn’t the problem, but whether Dean himself thought he was too weak do this. All he could do was believe in his big brother, even if he couldn’t believe in himself.  
  
Dean opened his eyes and lifted them to find his brother. When he saw Sam he couldn’t help but smile at him. “You know, if they wanted me to just stand here all they had to do was ask.....son of a bitch.” Dean’s face contorted with discomfort and for a second the group held its breath, wondering what had caused the pained exclamation.  
  
“Dean, are you alright?” Sam asked, fear and worry battling in his voice.  
  
Dean looked at him, “Yeah, but god, my damn nose is itching. Do you think Chuckles will come over here and scratch it for me if I ask nicely?” He nodded towards the warrior, stood with his arms folded, scowling at the comment. The familiar smirk was back. Dean was using his first weapon of choice - humour. He heard a ripple of laughter from Amber’s friends, using it to help bolster his failing strength, but he drew the most strength from Sam’s presence.  
  
Sam stood and shook his head at his brother, “I don’t know, doofus, but he might use that knife of his to give you a new parting. Do you want me to ask him? I think he likes me better than you.” Sam said, giving an encouraging but slightly strained smile as he said that.  
  
As Dean looked into warm, concerned hazel eyes, he felt a sense of calm flow over him. All the doubts and fears from earlier that had nearly overwhelmed him were forced back into the darkness that swirled around his mind, and locked away behind his walls and defences. He didn’t have time to be weak; it was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He’d promised Dad he’d look after Sammy, and if it was the last thing he did, he would keep his brother safe. Now he looked out at the warriors gathering to take part in the final Trial.  
  
Dean watched as the ghosts whipped themselves into a fury, chanting, singing and some were dancing. Dean felt a thrill of fear run through him as he watched the warriors gearing up for the Trial; he took another deep breath to stay calm. He couldn’t afford to show fear; there was too much at stake here. Finally Dean allowed the hunter inside of him to take over. The clamouring in his mind stilled and he assessed the men in front of him dispassionately. They were all young and fit and he knew every single one of them had killed men; for them it had been a case of kill or be killed.  
  
Dean understood that feeling all too well, when a second’s hesitation would kill you. When all that drove you forward was adrenaline and the desire to finish the hunt. Now he was the prey and these men were the hunters, and he appreciated how the sight of heavily armed men, coming at you, could reduce you to a quivering wreck. Dean suddenly smiled at the gathered warriors, forcing tired and aching legs to steady, standing ready to face whatever the Tribe wanted to throw at him. Hell, he’d faced down John and Sam Winchester when they’d been pitching bitch fits - these guys would be a piece of cake in comparison.  
  
Dean lifted his head and looked Chuckles right in the eyes, waiting for the ghost to make his move. Chuckles began to pace back and forth, throwing looks filled with contempt in his direction.  
  
Chuckles finally stopped pacing and looked right at Dean. He sneered once again and started to speak. “Look at him! See how he trembles with fear. He is lower than a woman.” He spoke in English, and his words were translated to the rest of the Tribe. Those words were met with howls of approval, and Chuckles looked around with a smirk.  
  
Dean quirked an eyebrow at the ghost. Well, two could play at that, “Really? Is that the best you can do, Chuckles? Lower than a woman? I thank you for the compliment, dude. After all, your women rode with you into the final battle and stood with you to the end. That’s true courage, and I tell you something, they hit damned hard. By the way, Chuckles, I didn’t see you volunteer to take me on in the fight. Were you scared someone lower than a woman would beat you? Is that why you sent a boy to face a hunter?” Dean’s voice rang out loud and strong; he watched Chuckle's face darken with anger as the insults sank in. Then Chuckles threw his knife. It thudded into the tree right next to his ribs. Dean’s eyes never left the warrior; he just kept smiling at him.  
  
Chuckles turned abruptly on his heel and walked away. Dean called out after him, “Don’t go. I’m missing you already. Ok, guys, who’s next? Want to see if you can get the next knife even closer?” He looked at the assembled warriors as he spoke, and then he yawned in boredom.  
  
Amber was watching the display. She glanced up at Sam. Sam was tense. When Chuckles had thrown the knife, she felt him flinch, “You ok there, Sam? I’d say he is doing well so far. He’s showing no fear, plus he’s a real hit with the ladies of the Tribe.” As Amber said that she motioned to where the women stood, smiling at the compliment Dean had given them. Her words had been steady but she felt sick when the blade had hit the tree. Now she was trying to hold it together. The last thing Dean needed was for any of them to freak out.  
  
Sam was trying not to react as another warrior stepped up and threw his knife at his brother. This time it was even closer and Sam saw blood well along the blade. Dean never even reacted to the wound. Just kept smiling and chatting to the warriors, throwing insults and congratulating them if they managed to get close. He’d never been so glad of Dean’s smart mouth. With every word he was winding the warriors up further, but he wasn’t showing them the fear he had to be feeling. “I’m happy to hear that, Amber, but I don’t know if I can take much more of this...holy shit!” He exclaimed as something caught his eye.  
  
Several knives had now joined Chuckles’ blade in the tree, and Dean was watching the warriors with interest. Each throw was designed to make him break and beg them to stop. Well, as far as he was concerned they could use him for target practice all day. Then one of the warriors took off towards him in a dead run. The ghost was screaming a blood-curdling war cry, his knife held high above his head. He came to a halt, inches from Dean and the war cry continued; Dean never looked away or flinched.  
  
Finally the screaming stopped, and Dean smirked, “Dude, is that it? You done? I admit that was impressive, but Ozzy’s got a better range. And I gotta say I bet your breath could’ve dropped a buffalo at twenty paces. Did never you hear of a dentist?” Dean delivered his comments in a slightly bored tone of voice. His words made Amber and her friends laugh; he knew that what he was saying would be lost in translation, but judging by the look on the warrior’s face his tone of voice more than made up for it.  
  
The warrior looked furious, and then he swung the knife down with force, level with Dean’s eyes, pushing it deep into the wood of the tree beside his face. Dean never blinked as he did that. The warrior’s face changed; the anger was gone, and in its’ place was a look of respect. The warrior turned away and went to join the rest of his tribe.  
  
The remaining warriors moved back and forth, muttering angrily, and Dean shifted slightly. He was trying to ease the pressure on his aching shoulders, and now the rope was biting harshly into his outstretched arms. Then he tested the damage inflicted by some of the blades that had come too close. He could feel fresh blood dripping down from new injuries. He had to speed this up as his strength was failing rapidly now, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.  
  
Dean forced his exhausted body to stand straighter once again, smirking at the warriors. Over with the spectators Sam saw that look and felt a thrill of apprehension, “Oh God, what’s he going to do now?” He said out loud as Amber looked over at Dean and she too felt a sense of foreboding.  
  
“I take it, that look doesn’t bode too well then.” Amber licked her lips nervously, clutching at the leather of Dean’s jacket, her fingers edging close to where the flare was.  
  
Sam never took his eyes off his brother, “No, not really. The last time I saw that look was just before he told a biker that his girlfriend was hot and he bet they would look good on his bitch seat.” Sam gnawed at his lip in worry.  
  
Amber’s eyes widened, “I see. I bet that made life interesting. I take it we should hold onto our hats, so to speak.” She flicked a glance at Dean who was getting ready to speak.  
  
Sam grinned ruefully, “I should say so. The girlfriend in question happened to be the biker’s six-foot-tall lieutenant, covered in tattoos and muscles, and he really didn’t like being called sweetheart. It worked though, because in the fight after that I managed to grab the cursed skull we were after, and get out of the bar.” Sam took a deep breath in an attempt to calm frayed nerves.  
  
Amber and her friends gasped at that, “And did Dean make it out of the bar in one piece after that?” She sounded awed at the prospect of Dean saying that to a bar full of bikers.  
  
Sam sighed, “Oh, he got out all right. Right through the plate glass window. That particular ‘don’t worry, Sam, I got this covered’, only cost him some stitches and an overnight in hospital, while he had a blood transfusion. I can’t look.” Sam lifted his eyes heavenward and began to pray softly.  
  
Dean smirked and called out, “As much as I enjoy being a dartboard, are we nearly done? Or have I gotta wait while you guys have another tea dance? I’ll let you into a secret. My brother, Sammy does a mean waltz. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to dance with you.” As soon as the words were translated, cries of anger filled the air, and Dean braced himself for the reaction of the angry ghosts.  
  
Dean didn’t have to wait too long; knives flew at him from every angle. He just stood there calmly, letting them thud into the tree with hardly a flinch, even when one of the blades landed perilously close to his throat. He just stared the warriors down. Finally the deadly rain of steel ceased. Dean took a shaky breath. He’d made it! There were no more warriors stood, waiting to either throw a knife at him or charge in, screaming.  
  
When the sound of blades hitting the tree finally stopped, Sam finally managed to draw breath. He’d stopped breathing when Dean had thrown his last insult. Now he was feeling light headed from lack of oxygen and the fact his brother was still in one piece. Dean was surrounded by blades, running from his neck to down by his thighs. Sam was pleased; there didn’t seem to be too many more new cuts. Some of the knives had nicked Dean but most of them had missed.  
  
Dean grinned in triumph. He’d made it! They were all getting out of here. He was looking over at Sam when he spotted Amber. She’d been smiling and cheering with the others when they realized that he was in one piece, and then her expression changed. Suddenly she looked scared. Dean followed that frightened gaze and his heart raced in fear.  
  
  
Striding out to the centre of the canyon was Great Bear himself. Dean remembered what the War Chief had told him - that in the end he was the one who decided whether Dean had passed the Trial. Now he stood there, holding a large hunting knife. Chuckles came to stand by his chief, ready to act as translator for the chief’s words.  
  
Dean met the Chief’s eyes, licking at his lips. So the test still wasn’t over. Right then they were going to do this on his terms. Taking a deep breath Dean addressed the chief. “It looks like it’s down to you and me, Chief Great Bear. I’d much prefer we talk this over man-to-man. You don’t need Chuckles there to translate for you. Now just what do I have to do to finally pass the Trial? Or was I never meant to pass it?” Dean looked right at the chief as he spoke, never breaking eye contact. All around him he could hear exclamations from the tribe at his words.  
  
Amber looked shocked, “What the hell does Dean mean by that? Of course Great Bear needs a translator; he’s never shown any sign he understands English.” She sounded dumbfounded at what Dean was implying.  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes and looked closely at the War Chief. There was no sign he had understood Dean’s words. He looked back at Amber and said, “Dean is worried that he was just being set up to fail, and now the chief is going to deliver the killing blow. Well, is he right, Amber?” Sam’s words were soft and urgent. He needed to be ready to run and it all depended on Amber’s answer.  
  
She shook her head furiously, “No way, Sam! Great Bear gave his word that we would go free if Dean passed the Trial. I have no idea what’s going to happen now. I really wish I could help you.” Amber’s words were full of fear and uncertainty.  
  
Sam was tensing and he was just about to make a move when he looked over at Great Bear. The Chief was smiling. Sam froze in place. No, it wasn’t possible; there was no way Dean could’ve known that.  
  
The smile grew on the chief’s face and with a gesture of his hand, Chuckles was dismissed from his side. He looked right at Dean and nodded, “I’m impressed with you, Dean Winchester. How did you know I speak the white man’s tongue? You are the very first white man to ever realize that.” The chief sounded impressed with the hunter.  
  
Dean grinned in return, “I have to admit you’re good. Your face gives nothing away. I’d hate to play you at poker, but you do have a tell. It’s in your eyes. For the most part even they didn’t let anything slip, but every so often something crossed them. I could see you weighing up your options. It’s a great trick, getting Chuckles to translate for you. It gives you time to consider your answers; it must’ve come in handy when dealing with the likes of Captain Stoneman. Also if people don’t think you can understand them, it’s amazing what they’ll let slip, isn’t it?” Dean asked the question, and was rewarded with another warm smile.  
  
Sam was still stunned by this turn of events, but it made a lot of sense. It was exactly as Dean said with Captain Stoneman’s attitude toward the Native American people. He could imagine him being so arrogant that he wouldn’t care what he said in front of the ignorant savage. His admiration for the warrior grew, but he was still waiting to hear the chief’s response to Dean’s question on whether the Trial was impossible to pass. Sam was still ready to give the signal to start the escape.  
  
The Chief looked around the canyon, and finally his eyes came to rest on the small group, huddled together. After a few seconds staring at them, he turned back to Dean. “It is wonderful what we will do to protect our family and those we love, is it not, Dean? I led my men against a force they could not possibly defeat and yet they came willingly for their families. I know you are devoted to your brother, Dean Winchester. I can see it in your every action. You asked me what you would need to do to pass the Trial. It is simple. But before I tell you, what if I made you an offer? That I will let these people go right now.” The chief stopped speaking, waiting for Dean’s response.  
  
Dean reeled at those words. What the hell? Great Bear was just prepared to let everyone go, just like that? Dean watched the ghost for any signs of deception. He was pretty good at reading people, and he couldn’t see any sign of trickery in the chief’s eyes. “Ok. Say I agree to your offer of letting everyone go. What’s the catch?” Dean blinked as he spoke, trying to clear his head. He was starting to drift. Exhaustion and thirst were taking their toll, and it was getting harder to concentrate. He was feeling every injury more keenly than before. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.  
  
“There is no catch. As you say, they are all free to go. Let me ask you this, hunter? If I was to tell you that your brother could gain his freedom by enduring this Trial again, what would your answer be? Great Bear’s brown eyes seemed to bore right through Dean, and he felt as if he was falling into the serene gaze.  
  
Dean took a steadying deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam, standing ramrod straight, his fists clenching and unclenching with worry, knowing exactly what his answer was going to be. Dean tried to speak, but his throat was so dry, he licked desperately at his lips. Finally he managed to croak out his answer, “Then I’d say what are you waiting for? But you already knew that I’d say that. So why ask the question?” Dean knew he sounded tired; it was getting increasingly difficult to keep his ‘game face’ on. He looked over at the chief who seemed to be pondering his answer.  
  
“It is the answer I expected. Then I say this to you. Your brother, the Shaman and her friends may all leave this sacred place now, along with yourself. Do you accept my offer?” The chief stood with his arms folded, his face once again blank.  
  
Suddenly wild cheering broke out from where the others stood; Dean never took his eyes from the chief. It sounded simple enough. They could all walk out of here, no strings attached. But could they? The chief had been very careful who he’d mentioned. When this all began the one who summoned them from their rest had been mentioned a lot, and yet Daryl had not been spoken of at all.  
  
Dean rolled his shoulders as best as he could and bit down on his lip to prevent the moan of pain escaping, as fire rippled along his outstretched arms, “I’d say, yes please, but what about Daryl? I know that Amber doesn’t consider him a friend, and he sure as hell ain’t my brother. So what about him, then? Does he get to leave with the rest of us?” The softly spoken words put an end to the wild celebrations.  
  
The chief was no longer smiling; instead he stood there. The great and powerful war chief shook his head. “No, the one who summoned us from our rest must remain here and be punished. You and the others are free. You have shown great resolve and courage, Dean Winchester. You need do no more. But Daryl Gray Bear, my descendant, must remain and face the justice of those he betrayed.” As he spoke, his words were translated and the Tribe screamed out in agreement.  
  
Dean’s head was swimming. He was vaguely aware of Amber and the others yelling and pleading for Daryl’s life. Several warriors stepped forward and took hold of Daryl, ready to drag him away. Dean shook his head desperately, trying to find his voice. At first he couldn’t make himself heard above the commotion. Finally he roared out one word, “NO!” Everyone stopped and stared at Dean. His chest was heaving as he tried to draw a deep breath. He spoke, “I said no. You ain’t gonna take Daryl. Do you hear me? Listen, I’ll go through the fucking Trial again if it saves that dumbass’s life. Now let him go!” Dean’s voice was worn and ragged.  
  
All eyes were focused on the chief when Dean said that. The air was filled with cries of horror, and Sam’s voice could be heard, “Dean, for God’s sake, no. I’ll do it. Please, Dean, you’ve done more than enough.” Sam’s anguished words tore into Dean, but he had to finish this.  
  
The warriors looked at their chief, waiting for his decision. Great Bear walked forward slowly until he stood right in front of the wounded man. He looked into pain-filled green eyes; a look of compassion crossed his face. “Tell me why you would do that for this man. He is not your family, or your blood, and it was his greed and stupidity that led you to endure this suffering. Not only have you suffered, but your brother has suffered also, watching you endure this. And yet you are willing to go through it again? Why not let your brother take your place and fight for Daryl’s life?” Once again deep brown eyes searched Dean’s bruised and scratched features.  
  
Dean managed a weak smirk, “It’s like you said, Great Bear, I would do anything for my family, and there is no way in hell I’d let Sam do this. As for Daryl, he might be a dick but this is what I do. I save people, and I wouldn’t be much of a hunter if I only decided to save the ones I liked, and wanted to be buddies with. So I’m good to go whenever you’re ready. Hey ladies, you ready to go another round with me?” Dean looked over to the women of the tribe and winked at them.  
  
There was silence in the canyon and everyone looked at the War Chief as he remained facing Dean. Then he lifted his eyes to the women and there appeared to be a silent communication between them. He nodded gravely and looked again at Dean.  
  
Great Bear stood quietly for a moment and then he turned to face the rest of the Tribe. He began to address them in English. “My friends, this man has more than proved his worth to me. He has shown a true warrior’s spirit by his readiness to endure the Trial again for one who has brought shame upon himself. I say to all of you, he has more than paid the debt of honour owed by Daryl Grey Bear. His strength, courage, and sacrifice should in turn be honoured by us. I ask you now; shall we show that we can be merciful, as well as vengeful? I say we should give them their freedom to live their lives and learn from this man’s example. If we do not, all that we have shown is our hearts have darkened, and then we are the ones who are shamed.” Great Bear stopped speaking, waiting for his words to be translated for the tribe. As he did he looked around at the assembled faces in the canyon.  
  
Sam looked over at his brother, a look of helplessness on his face, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him. Dean returned that look; he gave Sam a weary and comforting smile. He’d done everything he could, even offering to go through the shitty ordeal again. And now it was all out of his control, and in the hands of the tribe and Great Bear. He just hoped that Sam was ready to run, if things didn’t go their way  
  
Great Bear walked over to Chuckles and looked at him, “I will ask you first, Black Eagle, my brother, as the greatest warrior amongst us. Shall I grant these people their freedom? Yes or No?” The chief looked into his brother’s dark eyes.  
  
Sam and the others started in shock at those words. Sam looked wild-eyed at Amber, “Oh shit, Chuckles is Black Eagle? I should’ve known Dean would be able to find the biggest hothead, and piss him off completely. How do you think Chuck....Black Eagle will vote, Amber?” Sam sounded nervous.  
  
She looked up at him and shrugged, “I don’t know, Sam; maybe he’ll be impressed by Dean’s courage, or just really angry at Dean’s lack of respect for him. I just don’t know. What do we do now?” Amber looked around to see if she could make it to Dean’s bag. Her heart was beating wildly.  
  
  
Dean groaned softly to himself. Great! He’d spent the morning pissing off the Chief’s brother and basically told him he was a coward. Perhaps Sam was right, and he should keep his big mouth shut from time to time. Shit! They were so screwed. He took a deep breath; he wasn’t done yet. If needs be, he’d drag his bruised ass through this time and time again to get them out of there. He squared his shoulders, and looked over at the brothers with a determined expression on his face.  
  
Black Eagle looked over his brother’s shoulder at Dean, remaining silent for several long seconds. Then he gave a smile. “You chose your champion well, my brother. He has reminded me of why we stood, fought and died here. We did that not only for our families, but for the good of all our people on that cursed march. I, too, have learned a lesson from this. The vow we made to protect our people is as sacred now as it was when we made it. We do not get to choose who we should or should not protect. I say yes, we allow them to live and go free.” Black Eagle placed his hand on Great Bear’s shoulder and smiled.  
  
Great Bear nodded his thanks to his younger brother, turned away from him and looked at the assembled tribe. Great Bear spoke to them, “You have heard my brother’s choice. What do you now say? Yes or no?” The chief stood in the centre of the canyon with his back to Dean, waiting for his answer.  
  
There was silence and then a lone voice called out “Vv.” Then other voices joined, and the canyon rang with cries of the same word over and over.  
  
Sam looked around, wondering what was being said. He turned to Amber and the look of joy on her face answered him long before her happy words, “They’re all saying yes, Sam. He did it, Dean did it! We’re gonna be freed.” She laughed and then threw herself into the young hunter’s arms, squealing with relief.  
  
Sam smiled and looked over at Dean. He was going to joke about getting the girl after Dean had done all the work. The joke died on his lips and he felt a rush of concern. His brother was looking decidedly unsteady now. He was breathing heavily and Sam could see he was having trouble keeping the tremors in his limbs under control. Dean lowered his head once more, and took a slow deep breath, managing to pull himself together again. He lifted his head and saw Sam looking at him. A roguish smile appeared on his face and he winked at Sam, “Sammy, you sly dog, and I thought I was the chick magnet. That’s my boy.” Dean’s voice was weaker now, and the effort The Trial had cost him was becoming obvious.  
  
Great Bear held up his hand for quiet. The voices died away and once again he turned to face Dean. The chief stood there with his arms folded and studied the man tied to the tree. A thoughtful look crossed his face.  
  
Dean licked his cracked lips and spoke, “It’s still your decision, Chief Great Bear. I’m ready whenever you are.....”Dean nodded towards the hunting knife, still in the warrior’s hand, and he smiled, waiting for him to throw the knife.  
  
The chief shook his head slightly and smiled, “Yes, it is my decision, Dean Winchester. You asked what you had to do to pass the Trial. You passed when you said you would go through the Trial again to save Daryl. And as always I will abide by the will of my people and set you free. Sam Winchester, come here please.” The chief looked over at Sam, and he started to walk towards the chief.  
  
Sam stood by the chief, wondering what the warrior wanted from him. Great Bear gave the young man a friendly smile, “Your brother wonders what I will do with my knife. Where should I place it?” He looked over at the tree as is if he was deciding where to throw it. “Hmmm, I have a much better idea....” Great Bear held the hunting knife out, hilt first to Sam. “Take it, young warrior and release your brother, and then all of you are free to leave this canyon. Now if you will forgive me, I must speak with Amber Moon Haven, our young Shaman.”  
  
Sam looked wide eyed at the offered knife. He took it and nodded his thanks. Then he ran to where Dean was tied, grinning as he reached his brother. He heard the sounds of footsteps and saw Jim and Chris appear beside him; he started to saw at the ropes holding Dean in place, “Are you ok, Dean?” Sam asked breathlessly.  
  
Dean moaned softly and shook his head, making Sam feel sick, “Of course I’m not alright, dude. I’m mortally wounded here.” His tone was aggrieved.  
  
Sam stopped cutting and panicked. Shit! Was Dean worse than he thought? He looked into his brother’s face to try to discern how bad it was. Then he saw the smirk, rolled his eyes and waited.  
  
“I mean, come on, Sam, where the hell are my damn pants? It’s kinda draughty out here. Now can someone please get me some clothes? My dignity is dying here!” Dean laughed, and he heard mutters of jerk and you scared the damn crap out of me from Jim and Chris.  
  
Sam shook his head. Despite the jokes he knew Dean had reached his limits and gone beyond them. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get the stubborn idiot dressed, without it dissolving into all-out warfare. Sam grunted in triumph when the rope parted, and Dean’s arms came free. He dropped the knife as Dean staggered forward, unable to stop himself from falling against his brother. “It’s ok, I got you. Just relax and let me help you.” Sam felt Dean struggling to stand.  
  
Finally Dean managed to push away from Sam. He looked a little put out and still held onto Sam’s jacket. He gave his brother a grateful smile, “Do I look like Lois Lane, dude? Amber, thank God! Someone with compassion. Thank you.” Those words of gratitude were spoken due to the arrival of Amber with Dean’s clothes. He reached out to take them from her with a smile.  
  
Everyone stood watching Dean. He rolled his eyes, “Ok, show’s over. All I’m gonna do is get dressed. Trust me, you saw the best bit earlier when I stripped. Sam, you need to go and get our shit together now.” Sam stood with a stubborn expression on his face. Dean gave a weary sigh. “Look, I promise I won’t keel over. But I’ll feel a lot happier knowing that once I’m dressed, we can get the hell out of here ASAP, if that’s alright with you, Sammy?” He sounded tired and stressed as he spoke. Sam gave him a knowing smile and turned away to see to the bags.  
  
Amber gave Sam a smile, the look on her face telling him no matter what Dean did she would be staying right there. She saw a look of relief on his features, knowing that Dean would have help if he wanted it. Then she motioned with her head to Jim and Chris and they too went to help Sam. Amber turned her back to Dean and looked around the canyon; she felt he needed a little privacy after the way he’d been on display all morning. She heard the sound of him moving around behind her. She knew why he’d sent Sam away. He didn’t want Sam to see him as he struggled to get dressed.  
  
Then she heard a soft, ’Son of a bitch’. She couldn’t help herself; she spun around. Dean had managed to pull on his jeans, and by the look on his face it hadn’t been that pleasant an experience. She could see him biting his lip, and he’d managed to go pale beneath the fiery red of sunburn and bruised skin. She stepped a little closer and thought ‘screw the whole macho, everything is fine’ crap. “Do you need any help, Dean?” She asked gently.  
  
Dean lifted his eyes and managed a lopsided grin, “No, I’m fine. I’ve just decided I’ll spend a little more on the fabric conditioner next time I do the laundry. In fact I’ll actually buy some next time. Amber, it’s nothing. Just a little muscle strain and sunburn. I just need to get my act together. Can you hand me my T-shirt please? I could get used to this kind of personal service.” As he said that he smirked, and Amber picked up the shirt and handed it to him. Then he rolled the material up and pulled it over his head, easing it over his aching body.  
  
Dean gritted his teeth as he got dressed. He knew it was going to hurt, but shit, his clothes felt like sandpaper against his bruised and raw skin. As he pulled the shirt down, all the muscles across his shoulders screamed in protest and the pain took his breath away. He knew Amber was watching him closely, so he gave a smile and a wink. This was nothing compared to some of the hunts he had come back from. So what if he was a little sore and tired? He needed to suck it up, and get everybody’s asses out of there, in case the ghosts changed their minds.  
  
Amber watched Dean battling silently through the discomfort, managing for the most part to disguise just how much pain he was in. When he knelt down to put his boots back on, she’d almost got down with him and told him he was being a moron. To let her do it instead. Once again he’d lost all colour and this time, as he pulled on the footwear, she thought he was going to pass out when he’d swayed and his eyes closed. Then she saw him breathe through it, managing to stand up slowly, a look of relief crossing his face.  
  
She tilted her head to one side, “You know they say the Trial has four parts to it. I just witnessed the fifth part. I never knew getting dressed took that much effort.” She smiled tenderly at Dean.  
  
He just grinned at her, “What? I think you’ve been amazingly brave. It must’ve been hard watching me cover up my manly physique. Sorry, Amber, but all good things come to an end. Although if you like, I’ll happily give you a private view later if you want.” Dean waggled his eyebrows and gave a suggestive wink.  
  
She laughed at him; God knew how he managed that. She’d been there to offer sympathetic support, and instead he’d been supporting her all along. It was then she noticed that Sam had come back, and was looking closely at his brother.  
  
Sam was frowning, his forehead wrinkled, and he looked ready to pitch a fit about Dean getting dressed without his help. Dean recognized all the signs. He rolled his eyes and answered the unspoken monologue, “Sam, can it! I’ve been getting dressed on my own since I was four. Now can I have my stuff back please?” There was a fond irritation in his voice as he spoke, and held out his hand to Sam.  
  
Sam shook his head - some things would never change, and Dean downplaying injury was one of them. He put his hand in his pocket and retrieved the jewellery, holding it out for Dean to take from him.  
  
First of all Dean took his watch and fastened it on his left wrist then came the skull bracelet and ever-present silver ring. Finally Dean took the amulet back. As he put over his head he finally felt dressed again, and he let his hand linger on its comforting shape. He let go of it and smiled happily at Sam, “Now I’m ready. Are we ready to blow this joint? Because I don’t know about you guys, but I’d kill for a cold one about now.” There was a chorus of agreement and Dean cheerfully ignored the dirty look Sam was shooting him, along with the ‘you’re dehydrated, you’re drinking nothing but Gatorade and water until I say so’...that was written in large neon letters above his brother’s head.  
  
He looked at Amber and held out his hand. He should really have put his over shirt back on but he couldn’t face the thought of it; instead he looked at his leather jacket, “Now as hot as you look in that, I think I should have my jacket back now, Amber.” She laughed and handed him the worn leather jacket.  
  
As Dean slipped it onto his battered frame, even he couldn’t hide the grimace of pain as stiffening and torn muscles complained at the weight of the jacket settling on injured shoulders. The look appeared fleetingly, but it was enough to sober the mood of everyone there. In the euphoria of being free, they’d almost forgotten the price one of them had paid to gain that freedom.  
  
Dean shook himself and grinned, “Ok kiddies, now I want you to make sure you’ve gotten everything packed, and then pair up with your buddy and we will all walk quietly and sensibly out of the canyon, after thanking our gracious hosts for their hospitality.” Dean’s school teacher tone lightened the mood once more, and he started to walk slowly to where the bags sat.  
  
As they reached the bags, he went to put his shirt in his bag, only to find Sam putting his hand gently on his shoulder, taking the shirt off him and putting it in Dean’s bag. Dean couldn’t help the grateful smile he gave his little brother. If he bent over to pack the shirt, there was every chance he’d end up on his ass and would ruin the whole warrior image. As Sam stood up he looked over Dean’s shoulder, and Dean followed his brother’s gaze.  
  
Great Bear was stood waiting for them. The brothers stood shoulder to shoulder in front of Amber and the rest of the group, in a protective gesture. The chief smiled at that movement; he looked at Dean, “You have shown true courage, Dean Winchester. You told me last night that there were no warriors left in this world. I think you are wrong. You and your brother have shown me that spirit of the warrior lives on, and there are still those ready to protect those in need. I will return to my rest happy in that knowledge. May the blessing of the Great Spirit go with you on your journey through Life.” The chief then nodded to the group, and stepped out of their way.  
  
As Dean moved towards his bag to pick it up, Sam knocked his hand away, “Do me a favour and let me worry about this. You just get your ass out of here, alright?” Sam looked at Dean with an expression that said he would lose any argument he might try and put forward.  
  
Dean smiled and patted him on the shoulder, “Thank you, Samantha, and thank you for volunteering to carry the bags in the future. Ladies and gentlemen, after you. We don’t want to outstay our welcome now, do we?” Dean smiled, gave a slight bow and gestured to the canyon entrance.  
  
Amber slung her bag over her shoulder and led the way. She fluttered her eyelashes at Dean as she walked by, “Why thank you, kind sir.” Laughing, she walked to the entrance.  
  
Dean and Sam let the others pass them. Sam leaned into his brother, “Are you sure you’re gonna make it? I can go and get the Impala while you wait by the rock.” Sam hefted his own bag up on his shoulder.  
  
Dean looked horrified at the suggestion, “Sam Winchester, have you lost your mind? Do you know how rough the terrain is? You’re not wrecking my baby’s suspension. Now, come on, Sasquatch, we gotta make sure Amber doesn’t kill Daryl on the way back.” Dean started to walk away with an indignant look on his face; Sam sighed and followed his mule-headed brother out of the canyon.  
As they caught up with the group, Amber was waiting for them; she looked at Dean and then at Sam. Sam was watching his brother closely once again so she decided to walk with them, to help Sam if Dean struggled.  
  
Dean found himself walking between them. He sighed to himself. Great! Now he had two mother hens! It really was his lucky day.  
  
As they walked out into the desert they heard the tribeswomen singing. Amber stopped, listened and smiled as she started to walk again. The brothers looked around at the group and shared Amber’s expression. Dean looked puzzled, “What are they singing about?” He asked as Amber started to walk beside him once more.  
  
Amber answered, keeping a watch on Dean as she did, “They’re singing about a green-eyed warrior with the heart and soul of a shaman. It’s quite an honour.” She watched Dean duck his head and rub his hand over the back of his neck. When he looked up and saw everyone looking at him, Amber was certain he was blushing.  
  
Dean coughed and picked up his pace, making the others walk faster to keep up. He called out over his shoulder, “Come on, we need to get our shotguns and then back to the cars. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve seen enough of the wide open spaces to last me for a while.” At that he walked away, looking for the weapons.  
  
Amber looked at Sam, “He doesn’t take praise too well, does he?” She asked softly.  
  
Sam shook his head, “No, he doesn’t. By the way Amber, what did Great Bear say to you?” Sam asked as they caught up with Dean. Dean stood by the guns, waiting for Sam to pick them up.  
  
Amber looked back into the canyon, “He asked me to make sure all the medicine bags were returned to the canyon, and then the Tribe could be at rest again. I promised him that I would do that as soon as possible. So Daryl, it looks like you’ll have a new work buddy on site until we find all your little bags. Won’t that be fun?” She said with a sweet smile on her face.  
  
Daryl rolled his eyes, “I can’t wait for you to join me on site....although it might be a good idea. You can help with the hotel designs. I have some wonderful ideas for the foyer.” Daryl’s voice was drowned out by the others as they shepherded him away from Amber, just in case she wanted to strangle him for that suggestion.  
  
Dean grinned at him as he walked on, “You have to admire him. He never gives up, does he?” Dean said in admiration.  
  
Amber gave a smile, “No, and I suppose Albert and you were right. I need to be the bigger woman here, and make certain he behaves. Are you ok, Dean?” As they talked, Amber noticed Dean was slowing down, weaving a little as he walked.  
  
Dean managed a weak smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about...shit.” Dean stumbled slightly and nearly fell; he was saved by Sam grabbing his arm. Dean knew he’d been getting slower; he’d watched the others moving away from them. But he just couldn’t push his exhausted frame any faster, and now he’d nearly fallen over a goddamn pebble. Some damn warrior he was.  
  
Dean looked back at the canyon, and in the distance he could still see figures watching them. He managed to straighten himself up and walked on. Although his legs were heavy, and his feet felt like they were on fire. There was no way he’d show weakness even out here.  
  
Amber watched him look back over his shoulder and she knew the tribe was still watching them. She wondered just how much more Dean could take before his legs gave out on him. She’d seen Sam had subtly slowed them down, and Dean had matched his little brother’s pace. Again she marvelled at the closeness of their bond. Just then she saw a sight that made her day. In the distance she could see their cars.  
  
She looked up at Sam who was hovering close to Dean. He used his impressive build to keep Dean moving, as once or twice Dean had drifted into him, and he’d leant against Sam until he realized what he was doing. Then he’d managed to push himself away and walk unaided again.  
  
Dean felt relief wash over him as he saw the Impala. He managed to walk a few more feet, and then the desert floor began to waver and his vision swam. He felt dizzy and his legs shook. He lifted his head and croaked out, “Baby, are you a sight for sore eyes....Amber, have the Tribe vanished?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper when he said that.  
  
Amber looked over her shoulder and it looked as if the canyon mouth was clear. As she turned back to answer, she noticed Sam dropping the bags, “They’ve gone, Dean.” She looked at Sam and then she saw the others had come back to join them.  
  
Dean managed a few more steps. Finally he had to admit defeat...he staggered to a halt, “Good....” His eyes rolled back and his knees buckled.  
  
Sam leapt forwards and caught Dean, lowering them both carefully to the ground. He gently patted his brother’s face, and was shocked by the heated dry skin he felt beneath his fingers. Sam called out one word, “Dean!”  
  



	13. Chapter 13

The way of the warrior, chapter 12.  
  
  
  
  
  
“Dean.....damn it! Come on, Dean, I need you to open your eyes.” Sam’s frantic words were accompanied by him gently tapping his brother’s face, as he lay on the ground with his head resting on his knees.  
  
Amber crouched beside them, “Looks like the morning‘s finally caught up with him. What can I do to help?” She looked at Sam, waiting for him to respond.  
  
Sam lifted his eyes and for a second, there was a lost look in them that made him appear much younger than his years. Then the hunter within reasserted itself and Sam snapped into action, “Water. He needs water, and I gotta start cooling him down.” As he was speaking he was trying to manhandle Dean out of his leather jacket, but he was hampered by his brother lying there still and unresponsive. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to get Dean undressed after he’d been hurt on a hunt, but it never got any easier, no matter how much practice he got.  
  
Amber looked at her friends, “Well, don’t just stand there, you heard Sam! Get some goddamn water over here now!” She roared out the order, and her friends ran to their vehicles to comply with the demand.  
  
Daryl dropped down beside them, “Sam, let me help you. What can I do?” He sounded unsure as he spoke, uncertain of how the young hunter would react to the man who had been responsible for his brother’s suffering.  
  
Sam stared at him for a moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. There would be a time to speak to Daryl about his part in this, but now Dean mattered more. “Ok. Can you hold him while I get his jacket off? Will your arm be alright?” Sam looked at Daryl’s injured arm as he spoke.  
  
Daryl moved forward and gently slipped his arms round Dean and lifted him from Sam’s lap; he pulled the hunter to his chest. He grunted when his arm throbbed, looking at Sam, “Screw my arm. Dean’s in worse shape than me. God, he’s heavy though. Can you hurry up with the jacket please?” A look of strain crossed Daryl’s face, as Dean’s muscular frame rested against his chest.  
  
Sam quickly pulled the jacket from around Dean’s shoulders, “It’s all the burgers he eats. I keep telling him to go on a diet. After all, it’s my back that gets busted when I have to carry him back to the car when he gets hurt. Hey, Dean, you really need to wake up. Because if you don’t I’m taking a picture of you being cuddled by Daryl, and then there goes your macho image.” As Sam talked to his brother his tone was light; but his eyes were shadowed with distress at seeing Dean like this once again. He took Dean’s limp body from Daryl, and laid him back down again.  
  
Suddenly they were surrounded by hands all offering cold bottles of water. Sam jerked back a little in surprise, and then smiled gratefully. “That’s great! Ok, these will come in handy. Thanks for this, guys.” Sam took the first bottle of water and placed it behind Dean’s neck; he shivered when the cold bottle pressed against his denim-clad legs.  
  
The he took another two bottles, slipping them inside Dean’s T-shirt against his ribs, by his armpits. The next bottle he opened, and sprinkled the cold water over the front of his brother’s T-shirt. He took another bottle and he was just about to place it between Dean’s legs when...  
  
“Sam, if you put that bottle down there I will end you. I thought I was supposed to drink the stuff not end up wearing it. And you better not have taken any pictures, Sam, because you know how accidents with bottles of Nair and shampoo can happen.” He croaked out roughly as if his throat had been sandpapered, making Sam smile with relief. It was the best sound he’d heard today. Then green eyes blinked open, looking dazed, and Sam put the open bottle of water in Dean’s hand.  
  
Dean shakily brought the bottle to his dry, cracked lips. He allowed the cold refreshing liquid to trickle down his parched throat; he gagged a little when he swallowed. He coughed and then tried again, and this time he managed to drink without coughing. Damn! It tasted even better than that expensive malt Whisky he’d conned out of Bobby a couple of times.  
  
Sam rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, “Take it slow, Dean, you know the drill. Small sips, and of course I’d never take pictures of you being used as a giant teddy bear by Daryl. What do you take me for?” Sam tried not to give his big brother an evil grin but failed miserably.  
  
Dean tilted his head to take a proper look at Sam, “I take you for a pain in the ass little brother, who’d take this opportunity to embarrass his poor injured, heroic and stunningly handsome older brother. That’s who I take you for. And dude, I know the drill. It’s not the first time I’ve been dehydrated.” At that Dean took a few more small sips of water, moaning in appreciation as the cold liquid soothed his dry throat.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes at that. Trust Dean to make being dehydrated and battered sound almost pornographic. He noticed the moan seemed to attract Amber and her female friends. Yup! Good to see Dean bringing out the desire to nurse him back to health, and then he licked his lips and the women all mirrored the gesture. Ok. Perhaps nursing wasn’t the top of their agenda, but he was sure Dean wouldn’t mind a sponge bath or two from the ladies gathered there. Sam smiled at Amber as she looked at him; she blushed, and looked away from Dean. Just then Dean shifted and shivered at the continued presence of the cold bottles of water.  
  
“Sam, not that I ain’t grateful for the liquid refreshment and all. But why the hell are you trying to turn me into a Popsicle?” Dean grumbled and shivered again, trying to dislodge the bottles of water.  
  
Sam squeezed his shoulder gently, “Since you staggered to a stop, and fainted from exhaustion and dehydration.” Sam responded levelly.  
  
Dean frowned and muttered, “Didn’t faint. Winchesters don’t faint.” He pouted slightly, his bottom lip sticking out.  
  
Sam sighed, “Let me rephrase my last comment. Since you spent the morning being beaten, dragged behind a horse, fighting a warrior who wanted to kill you, then being used as target practice. That’s before limping for over a mile, and yes, you were limping at the end. Before finally passing out in a manly fashion, ending up sprawled on your ass in the desert with your head in my lap, gently frying from heat exhaustion. Is that better than saying you fainted?” Sam said sweetly, waiting for Dean to contradict him.  
  
Dean quirked an eyebrow at Sam, “You only needed to say I passed out, and anyway it’s time to get back to the motel room. I can’t lie around here all day. Come on, Sam, let me up.” Dean tried to push himself up, but his arms shook and he lay back panting with effort.  
  
“Going somewhere, Dean? Drink a little more water and then I’ll help you up.” Sam folded his arms and went for the forlorn puppy look. When Dean raised his hand for another bottle of water, Sam grinned triumphantly.  
  
Amber watched the brothers interact. She knew this wasn’t the first time they’d had this kind of exchange. She couldn’t help but wonder how often Sam had had to put Dean back together and vice versa. She could see the care Sam was taking of Dean, being careful not to make him appear weak in front of them. Then she thought about Dean’s motel comment.  
  
“Excuse me? You’re going back to your motel? What about seeing a doctor? Jesus, after everything you’ve been through you need to be checked over.” Amber leant forward so she was looking into Dean’s eyes; she saw defiance there. Then she looked up at Sam, “What? You just gonna take him back to the motel? I thought you were the brains of the outfit, Sam.” She put her hands on her hips, and glared at him.  
  
Dean’s hand appeared between them and he coughed, “Hello, I’m still down here, remember? Look it’s just a few bruises. I only need a hot shower, some Tylenol and a good night’s sleep. And I’ll be as good as new. I’m fine, Amber. Don’t worry. Now I’ve nearly drunk this bottle. Can we go, Sam? Only this floor ain’t doing my back much good.” Dean tried to push himself up again. He made it half-way before black spots began to dance in front of his eyes. He was saved from slumping back down by Sam supporting him until the spots vanished, then he pushed Dean the rest of the way to a sitting position.  
  
Sam looked over the top of Dean’s bowed head, giving Amber a helpless smile. He placed his large hand gently in the centre of Dean’s back. “Wait here and I’ll put the bags in the Impala. Just stay put, ok, Dean. Amber, can you make sure he doesn’t try and get up?” Sam looked imploringly at her.  
  
Amber nodded, and Sam got to his feet, picked up the bags and Dean’s jacket and went to the car. Amber looked down at Dean. He was sitting with his eyes closed, swaying slightly. His face was pale but his cheeks were flushed, making her concerned about the possibility of a fever. She moved forward slightly and gently touched his knee, “Dean, why won’t you come with me to the clinic? I know the doctor there. It won’t take long. Please, you have nothing left to prove to us.” She bit her lip, and hoped her request would be enough to get Dean to see her friend.  
  
Dean just smiled at her “I’m fine, Amber. Like I said, it’s just a few bruises. This is nothing. You should’ve seen some of the other hunts I’ve come back from, and Sam takes care of me. I don’t need a doctor when I got my very own Florence Nightingale.” He managed another brilliant smile, and slowly began to haul himself to his feet.  
  
Amber leapt to her feet, looking at the struggling man in frustration, “Dean, I hate to have to do this to you, but you’ve left me no choice....Sam!” She called out as Dean was attempting to stand.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, “Ahh, come on, Amber, you didn’t have to do that...I told you I’m fine.” He ignored the shooting pains in his feet and legs, and grunted as his body complained loudly at him for attempting to stand.  
  
Sam had just loaded everything into the trunk when he heard Amber’s voice. He slammed it shut, wincing slightly, knowing Dean would bitch him out for abusing his girl. Then he thought - to hell with that as he looked over at Amber, stood by his idiot of a brother as he tried to stand. Sam sprinted over to Dean. He sighed, “Going somewhere, big brother? You only had to wait a minute, but no, you can’t wait. You have no damn patience, do you?” Sam muttered as he bent forward, and reached out to help Dean.  
  
Dean growled at him and smacked his hand away, “I’ve been standing up on my own for a long time now, Sam.” By now Dean had gotten to his knees and very slowly pushed himself up.  
  
Amber was impressed with how Dean managed to get up. But by the time he was fully vertical, it looked as if he was ready to just fold back down to the floor. He swayed forward and breathed slowly, trying to control how unsteady he was.  
  
That was it for Sam! He ignored the glare his brother was shooting him when a fleeting look of pain crossed Dean’s pale features. “Well, I’m impressed, dude, but I think the whole getting to your feet triumph will be spoiled when you face plant. Now I’m helping you back to the car and that’s final. Right?” Sam moved closer to Dean and wrapped his arm round his waist, ignoring the muttered complaints about mother hens and over protective Sasquatches.  
  
Sam slowly turned them to face the cars and they began to move. As Amber watched the brothers’ progress, Dean’s gait put her in mind of an old man, slow and unsteady. Then all the discomfort vanished from his face as Dean locked the pain and fatigue away once more, and began to limp forward determinedly, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.  
  
Sam moved slowly, supporting his brother as he walked. No matter what he said, Dean was in worse shape than he was willing to admit to. Although it wasn’t hospital-serious, he would’ve much preferred the clinic’s doctor to check Dean over. But once his mule-headed brother had made up his mind, there was little he could do to change it. He smiled at that thought; he wasn’t the only Winchester with a stubborn-assed streak.  
  
As they walked Sam could feel Dean putting more and more of his weight on him. He said nothing; just kept helping Dean towards the Impala. Sam noticed that Amber’s friends had gathered round the car. He wondered just what Dean would make of the Welcome Committee.  
  
Dean pushed forward, ignoring his stiffening muscles and how his vision wavered. He was determined to make it to his girl under his own steam....ok, mostly his own steam, as he leaned on Sam, relying on his strength not to let him end up on his ass again. Finally he gauged they had to be at the Impala. He looked up and his eyes widened in surprise.  
  
Stood by the car were Amber’s friends and Daryl, all looking like they wanted to make a big speech or a fuss. Dean dropped his eyes and felt embarrassed. He couldn’t even get away from them, as Sam had the keys and he knew there was no way Sam would let him drive. Although if he was honest, he didn’t think he could drive in any case.  
  
He took a deep breath and put on his best smirk. “Ladies, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” He sounded relaxed but his heart was hammering; he just wanted to get out of here. Dean didn’t think he could handle a bunch of ‘touchy feely thank you for everything’ speeches. Then he noticed that Sam, the bastard, had gone and left him there without back-up. He looked over his shoulder at his brother stood by Amber.  
  
The friends all looked at one another and then Sara stepped forward. She smiled at him and gently pulled him into a hug then the other women stepped forward and did the same. Jim, Chris and Eric stepped forward and solemnly shook his hand. Dean was stunned - he hadn’t expected any of this. He’d been expecting speeches, not this quiet show of appreciation. He was at a loss how to respond.  
  
Sam stood watching the friends as they hugged Dean or shook his hand; he glanced over to Amber for an explanation. “My friends have pretty good hearing, Sam. They heard your comment about ‘chick flick moments’, and they thought this was the best way to say thank you for our lives. And Sam, none of us can ever express how grateful we are for what both of you did for us. All I can say is thank you, Sam. Thank you for keeping all of us in one piece.” She stepped closer, touched his arm, stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek.  
  
Sam was as stunned as Dean was. They were never thanked. No, not quite true but it was a rare thing for the people they saved to acknowledge what they’d done. He was overwhelmed by the way the friends showed their gratitude to Dean, “Amber, I didn’t do anything. Dean did all the hard work.” Sam said.  
  
Amber shook her head, “Sam, you did more than you realized. You helped to keep Dean strong and you were even prepared to leave him behind to get us out of there. You more than played your part Sam, believe me. Now I better get over and thank your brother, and make sure Daryl doesn’t say anything too stupid, and Dean decks him.” She patted his arm and walked towards Dean, as Sam found himself engulfed by the others.  
  
Daryl and Dean stood looking at one another, neither sure of what to say. Daryl licked at his lips, and thought ‘how do you say thank you to the man you almost got killed?’ He knew if he’d been in Dean’s place, he wouldn’t have made it to the end of the first Trial. Dean had gone through it all, and still managed to get himself back here. He shook himself and took a breath.....  
  
“Hey, Daryl, you don’t have to say thank you to me. The best way you can thank me is to collect all those damn medicine bags together and take them back to the canyon. And do me a favour. Listen to Amber, will you? Build your casino and make it work for the town, but if she tells you something’s a bad idea, then it’s a friggin’ bad idea, alright? Oh, and we better not be called back here because you ‘forgot’ one of the bags. Deal? And Daryl, just a little warning, Sam doesn’t take too kindly to me getting my ass kicked; he just might want a quick word with you before we leave.” Dean gave Daryl a smile, making the other man extremely nervous. Then a band of pain tightened around his ribs, and he wrapped his arm around them as the cuts and bruises there throbbed. God, he was shattered! He’d told Amber a good night’s sleep and he’d be fine. The way he felt right now, it was more like he could sleep for a month.  
  
Dean felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked around and Amber was stood there, “Don’t worry, Dean, I’ll make sure we collect all the bags, including the ones Daryl didn’t have a chance to plant....right, Daryl?...good. Sam, while you two are in town, the drinks are on me, alright?” She spoke to Sam, who’d appeared on the other side of Dean. Then Amber stepped closer to Dean and placed a kiss on his cheek.  
  
“Thank you, Dean Winchester. Thank you for the strength and courage you showed, along with being one stubborn son of a bitch. Good luck taking care of him, Sam. I get the feeling he’s a bad patient.” She grinned as Dean looked indignant.  
  
“I’ll have you know I’m a model patient, and I keep telling you I’m fine, Amber. I’ll be around tomorrow night for a steak with all the trimmings; I look forward to a free meal.” Dean smiled, but it was weak in comparison to the others he’d given Amber, and his voice was getting quieter.  
  
Sam saw that Dean’s strength was fading. He reached out and opened the Impala’s door, gently taking Dean’s elbow, “Oh, he’s a model patient alright, a perfect model of a pain in the ass. We’ll be here for a couple of days, and I’m sure we’ll be in for a light meal, won’t we, Dean?” Sam took no notice of his brother’s grumbling. He hovered as Dean lowered himself slowly into the passenger seat then he closed the door.  
  
Sam turned to Amber, “Like I said, we’ll be here for a couple of days, so if there are any more problems at the canyon....”  
  
Amber interrupted Sam “I know. Don’t call you. I promise you, Sam, there won’t be any more problems. Now go and look after Dean.” She waved at Dean, smiling.  
  
Sam laughed at Amber; he looked at Daryl, was going to speak to him but was surprised when Daryl went pale and suddenly excused himself. He looked at Amber, puzzled, “What did I do? I was only going to ask him not to do anything stupid again.” Sam watched the other man’s speedy departure  
  
Amber nodded to the car, “Dean suggested you might want a little chat with him before you leave. Concerning his injuries and how he got them. ” She gave a wicked smile  
  
Sam looked bemused and then his face lit up. Dean had saved him a job. He looked over at Daryl and fixed him with a glare, but managed not to laugh when Daryl shot behind Chris. He waved to the others and then went to the driver’s side, “So I’ll see you soon, Amber.” Sam got in the car.  
  
As the engine roared into life and they pulled away, Sam drove carefully across the uneven terrain back towards the road trying not to jostle Dean more than necessary. Amber looked after the Impala, “Oh, you’ll be seeing me soon, Sam, a lot sooner than you think.” She put her hand in her pocket and got her phone.  
  
As he drove Sam kept one eye on Dean who was slumped against the door. What worried him was Dean wasn’t sweating; he really needed to cool him down and get more fluid into him. Dean stirred, his face twisted and then he settled again.  
  
“I’ve told you before, Sammy, you need to keep one eye on the road. I know I’m gorgeous and unless you’ve grown a third eye on the side of your head, you still need to look out of the windshield to see the road.” He smirked and opened his eyes slightly; Sam shook his head in amusement and watched the road.  
  
Amber dialled a number, “Hi, Sandra, it’s Amber. Listen, I’m sorry to disturb you on a Saturday, but I was wondering if you’d mind making a house call....yeah, he‘s just your kind of patient - gorgeous and stubborn as hell. I’ll fill in when we bring Daryl in to be checked over....no, I haven’t tried to kill him. Look, we’ll be with you soon, and Sandra, load your car up with bandages. You’re gonna need ‘em.” She hung up and looked at her expectant friends.  
  
Jim walked over, “Well, what are we going to do, Amber? I mean, those guys just saved all our asses, they should get medals or something.” He looked around to see the others nodding.  
  
Amber gave them a rueful smile, “As much as I would love to give Sam and Dean a ticker tape parade, something tells me those two prefer to stay under the radar. And anyhow, don’t forget we’re supposed to be keeping our little trip out here quiet, remember? No, the best way we can thank them is not to draw too much attention to them. Is that alright with you guys?” She looked at her friends who nodded in agreement.  
  
“Sure, Amber. I should think their life doesn’t exactly put them on most law enforcement Christmas card lists. I mean, for a start they impersonated Gaming Commission agents. And Dean said something about pool playing. More like hustling if you ask me. Do you want help getting Daryl to the docs? Or will you be alright delivering him yourself?” Sara asked.  
  
“I’ll be fine. Come on, Daryl, you and I and going to talk about how you can help our heroes. I’ll see you guys later, alright? Take it easy and.....”  
  
“And don’t tell everyone we see about Great Bear, warrior Trials, and why one of the guests at the Desert Rose Motel looks like he went twenty rounds with Mike Tyson!  
  
I think we can keep quiet, Amber.” Eric smiled and he and the others went to the trucks.  
  
Amber turned to Daryl, “Come on, let’s get you to the clinic, and Sandra can check you over.” She held out her hand towards him. Daryl took it, and followed her to his Mercedes.  
  
  
  
Sam pulled up at the motel; the rest of the journey had been silent. Dean had been sitting with his eyes closed, Sam knew he wasn’t asleep. His energy was gone and Dean was doing his best to keep his pain locked away from him. But he was far enough gone to be startled when the car stopped.  
  
Dean blinked blearily. He tried to sit up and bit his lip as his whole body felt as if it was on fire. For a few seconds his head swam and he was dizzy; he swallowed and closed his eyes. He must have lost a few seconds, because the next thing Dean knew was the door was open and Sam was crouched down beside him.  
  
Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, waiting for Dean to get his bearings again, “You ready to get in the room; you said something about getting cleaned up and hitting the sack. It’s been a long night...day whatever. Just don’t use all the hot water, jerk.” Sam moved back a little as Dean slowly edged out of the car. He managed to lift legs that felt like they weighed a tonne out of the car and got ready to follow them.  
  
Dean felt a wave of nausea as he moved. He leant forward slightly and waited for the world to stop spinning. When he was ready, he put his hand on the door frame and pulled himself forward. Sam silently took hold of his brother’s arm and steadied him as he got out of the car. He knew if he asked Dean would refuse his help, but if he just did it then Dean would accept. Sam generally used this as a litmus test for how Dean was really feeling. Accepting help while bitching was generally fine, but the more easily he accepted the help usually indicated how bad he felt.  
  
Accepting help without any complaint meant Dean was ready to crash. Sam wasn’t at all surprised. It was taking all his brother’s last reserves of strength to remain stoic and not let any signs of discomfort show through. Sam wrapped his arm round Dean’s waist again and helped him limp to their room. Sam remembered that Dean had the key; he was just thinking about frisking Dean, “The key’s in my jacket, Sam. Shall I go back and get it?” Although he sounded exhausted he managed a smile.  
  
Sam looked over his shoulder wondering what to do. Should he pick the lock? Kick the door in or... “Dude, just go and get the freaking key. I’ve told you before I’m fine. Just a little tired. Now before I go to sleep standing here, I really would like a shower before bed.” Dean pulled himself away from the safety of Sam’s arms, wobbling a little then propped himself against the door frame.  
  
Sam moved quickly back to the car, opening the trunk where he’d put Dean’s jacket along with their bags. He took the chance to grab the bags as well. He needed his as he was carrying one of the first-aid kits. He knew he’d need most of their supplies to patch Dean up this time. It looked like another supply run to a local hospital was on the cards. Dean kept saying he made one hot nurse, as it was usually him prowling the corridors dressed in ‘borrowed’ scrubs. Sam shut the trunk and walked back to Dean. He could see his brother’s eyes were closed and the line was back between his eyebrows. He put the bags down and searched the leather jacket. Retrieving the key he unlocked the door.  
  
Sam pushed the door open and Dean eased himself off the door frame and staggered inside. He made it safely to the bed closest to the door and sat down heavily. The short walk had robbed him of even more energy; Dean sat hunched forward, trying to gather himself together.  
  
Sam followed him inside, closed the door and dropped the bags by the door. He unzipped his bag and found the first aid kit; Sam walked over to his bed and put the two kits side by side. He glanced at Dean. His brother was sat with his eyes closed. He wondered if he’d gone to sleep like that, it wouldn’t be the first time. Sam turned back to what he was doing, starting to lay what he needed on the bed - sterile dressings, surgical tape, antiseptic wipes, peroxide, and bandages. He’d have to check if any of the cuts needed stitching. He pulled out the dental floss just in case. Happy that his medical equipment was ready he turned around to help Dean.  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing now?” Sam asked as he watched Dean struggling to pull his T-shirt over his head.  
  
“Trying to get undressed...son of a bitch!” Dean hissed as he pulled the material away from his body. The movement made some of the shallow cuts start bleeding again where it had gotten stuck to some of his injuries and drying blood.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and leaned forward, pulling the shirt free of Dean’s body. He never commented on the look of agony that crossed Dean’s face. Instead he bent down and started to untie his boots for him. Dean muttered something and Sam didn’t look up, “Yes, I know you’re perfectly capable of getting undressed, but maybe I don’t want to reset your nose when you take a header off the bed. God, your feet stink! It’s no good. I think I should salt and burn these damn boots, they’re a health hazard.” Sam wrinkled his nose when he pulled the boots off his brother’s feet. He held them at arm’s length, choking.  
  
“Don’t you damn well dare! It’s taken me years to break those puppies in. I just got ‘em comfortable. They don’t smell that bad.” Dean smiled at Sam as he watched him put the offending items down as far away from him as possible.  
  
Sam stood up and shook his head. “Of course they don’t smell that bad, Dean. I‘ve been in graves that didn’t smell as ripe as those things. Now you stay there. I’m going to get us some ice. You’re gonna need those bruises iced...actually, why don’t I fill the bath tub with ice and just throw you in? It might be easier.” He smiled at his brother and then went in search of some ice.  
  
Dean listened for the sound of the door closing. He sat up straighter, “Ok, Winchester, shower time. If Sammy thinks he’s giving me a sponge bath then he’s got another thing coming.” Dean took a breath, and held it. He pushed off the bed and got to his feet, swaying a little. Then he fixed the bathroom door with a determined look. He made steady progress to the bathroom. Once inside he undid his jeans and let them drop to the floor, followed by his boxers.  
  
Dean stepped carefully out of them and turned on the shower. He looked down at his body, wincing at the sight of it. Shit! He felt bad enough then he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. He was smeared with dirt and blood, his skin felt tight and gritty. “Like I said before, it ain’t the years, it’s the mileage. Ah crap! How am I gonna get my socks off?” Dean knew if he either bent over, or crouched down there was no way he was getting up again. He looked at the sink and smiled. He leaned against it, put his foot on the toilet and inched the sock down his leg. He shook his leg and kicked the sock off. Grinning, he repeated the manoeuvre. Finally naked he tested the shower’s temperature. The water was cool and he increased the temperature. Gritting his teeth he stepped under the water.  
  
Dean managed not to scream when it felt like thousands of red-hot needles were raining down on him, “Fuck me.” He couldn’t help the exclamation of pain as the hot water came into contact with his bruised, lacerated and sunburnt skin. Placing his hands on the tiles in front of him he let the water cascade down his body. He looked down and watched the dirt and blood swirl around his feet before draining away. It was the colour of rust, and it made him wish his skin was more like metal then perhaps the simple act of taking a shower wouldn’t hurt so much.  
  
When his arms began to shake, Dean knew he had to hurry up and finish the shower before the last of his strength gave out. He reached for the soap. Picking it up, he began to work it into a lather. Dean started to hum tunelessly to take his mind off what he was about to do. Then he began to wash himself. The hot water from the shower had made his injuries sting. Now as the soap worked its way into scratches, grazes and cuts, it felt like he was back at the Trial and the ladies of the tribe were using him for batting practice once more.  
  
A moan escaped from tightly pressed together lips, but he kept scrubbing away, trying to clean as much dirt out of the open wounds as possible. By the time he was done he had to lean against the wall, shaking from both pain and fatigue. He panted and reached for the shampoo; he might as well do the job properly. As he did he noticed his vision wavering again. Shit, he really had to speed this up. Otherwise Sam would be giving him the kiss of life because he’d found him drowning in the shower, after he’d collapsed. And that was not the way Dean Winchester intended to go out.  
  
Sam had gone in search of the ice machine. He’d found it, and then he’d had to search for a couple of containers for the ice. Finally he’d been successful in his mission, filled the buckets and assessed the amount of ice he had. He decided that if he had to he’d come back later for more. He knew he’d be using a lot of it. He walked back to the room, opened the door, “Ok bro, now let’s get you cleaned up and.....Dean?” Sam looked up and saw his brother wasn’t where he left him. He panicked for a moment and then he heard the shower, and saw steam coming from the slightly open bathroom door. “Oh, goddamnit, Dean, you moron! I told you to wait.” He slammed the two buckets down on the table and walked straight into the bathroom. To hell with the usual privacy rules, this was an emergency.  
  
Sam looked in the shower. Dean had just finished washing his hair, now all his injuries were revealed in glorious, gory detail. Sam swallowed and then spoke, “Crap, Dean, you only had to wait a minute, and how damn hot do you have this water?” Steam was billowing out of the shower and Dean’s skin was scarlet from the hot water. Sam reached round his disorientated brother, wincing at the hot water bouncing off his hand.  
  
Dean lifted his head and looked at Sam, his eyes unfocused, “Dude, stop whingeing. I only took a shower, and the water was cool. What the Hell are you on about?” His words were slurred and Dean took a shaky step towards his brother.  
  
Sam licked his lips and picked up a towel. He handed it to his brother and watched worriedly as Dean struggled to wrap it round his waist. The water had been boiling, not cool. Shit! Now Sam knew he had to cool Dean down, but if he tried to do that too quickly it would only make things worse. Well, for a start he could get him out of the steam-filled bathroom and back to bed. “Come on, Dean, I need to check you over now.” Sam issued the words like an order, and Dean pushed himself forward. He hated using the John Winchester tone, but he knew it always got through to his brother.  
  
Dean struggled out of the shower, took a couple of steps, his knees buckled, and the dizziness was back. Dimly he was aware of someone grabbing him and talking to him. He watched with fascination as the uninspiring carpet moved beneath his feet at speed.  
  
Sam had been waiting for this ever since they’d walked out of the canyon; he knew Dean was going to crash and do it spectacularly. He’d already fainted....sorry, passed out; Sam had known that Dean had been running on empty. Now his body had just issued the I’m done notice. Sam had just taken hold of Dean to get him to the bed as quickly as possible. He’d just put Dean on the bed when there was a knock at the door.  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

The way of the warrior chapter 13.  
  
  
  
“Oh, for the love of god! Now what?” Sam growled in frustration, looking through the peephole, ready to just ignore the insistent hammering on the door. He was surprised by what he saw and stood away from the door and opened it. Amber swept past him, followed by another Native American woman. By Sam’s estimation the woman was in her forties. She walked quickly past him, and Sam found a heavy duty first-aid kit being thrust into his arms. The woman looked down at the figure on the bed, and smiled.  
  
“Well, Amber, you and the girls weren’t kidding when you told me these two were gorgeous. Now I’m guessing the vertical one is Sam, and the cutie on the bed is my patient, Dean...well, don’t just stand there, you two! Get the rest of my stuff....And for Pete’s sake, hurry up. So we can get the poor boy off this germ infested comforter now!” She walked beside Dean and hurried Sam and Amber into action with a glare.  
  
Sam put the kit down on the floor and followed Amber outside, “Who the hell is that? And what’s going on, Amber.” He followed Amber to a light blue SUV.  
  
She opened the trunk and started handing things to Sam, “That is Sandra, the best...the only doctor in town. She’s going to help you patch Dean up; we thought it might be more than a one-man job...I thought if Dean won’t go the clinic, then the clinic will come to Dean, and you can call Dean’s medical care a gift from Daryl and his American Express card. And be nice to Sandra - she’s my cousin.” Amber shut the trunk and Sam staggered under the weight of more medical equipment.  
  
He followed Amber as she walked back to the room, “Oh, so she’s your cousin. I should’ve got the family resemblance from the whole ‘just taking over and ordering people around’ thing.” Sam muttered and Amber looked over her shoulder and grinned at him.  
  
When they got back inside, Sandra was taking Dean’s pulse and had her hand on his forehead. She ran her thumb back and forth for a moment. Dean leaned into the touch, eliciting a smile from Sandra. “Well, honey, you really are a hot one - both in looks and temperature. You got the rest of the stuff? Good. Sam, you’re gonna move your brother while I put something better on the bed. Amber, get the pillows off.” Sam moved forward, quickly impressed with Sandra’s no-nonsense attitude. He considered rolling Dean but in the end he scooped his arms beneath him and lifted him carefully off the bed.  
  
Sandra picked up a blue surgical cloth from her kit, not exactly sterile but a lot better than the motel comforter to work on. She watched, impressed with Sam’s careful handling of his brother. “Sexy and strong! Tell me, sugar, you lookin’ for a girlfriend? I happen to know of an older woman on the lookout for a little... or should I say, large bit of company.” She laughed as Sam blushed, and spread the material on the bed, motioning it was safe to put Dean back down.  
  
Sandra walked to the first-aid kit. Opening it, she took out three packets of surgical gloves, handing one to Amber and the other to Sam. She tore open the packet and pulled them swiftly over her hands. “Ok, children, this is what we’re gonna do. Amber, you’ll just do as you’re told for once. Sam, judging by the way you’ve got your med kit laid out, congratulations, you’re gonna be my scrub nurse. Although if you’re the one who’s patched your brother up in the past, it might end up the other way round. Now if you’ll excuse me I‘ll just finish my examination of Dean.”  
  
Sandra moved back to Dean, deftly running her hands over his body, paying extra attention to his ribs. She palpated his abdomen, looking relieved when she found no signs of internal bleeding. Sandra continued on down, ending at the soles of Dean’s feet. Sandra stood back and appraised Dean; she turned to face Sam and Amber. “Right! First off, judging by the steam, and the fact that I got me one gorgeous wet man to take care of I’d say he just took a shower. Sam, I’ve got some good news, and I got some bad news on your brother’s condition. Which do you want first?” Sandra spoke in a relaxed manner, lifting some of the tension Sam had been feeling.  
  
“Dean always tells me I’m a pessimist, so hit me with the bad news first over what we’re facing.” He was pulling on his gloves as he spoke.  
  
“The bad news is, due to the hot shower he’s just damn near peeled his skin off with, we gotta start bringing his temp down ASAP, but you already know that. Amber start filling those nice bags Sam’s got on the bed with ice, and you know where to place ‘em. And you get the great job of cooling Dean down while me an’ Sam clean him up...Well, go on, woman, don’t just stand there gawping.” Amber almost stood to attention and then started to fill bags.  
  
Sam grinned as Amber did as she was told, “Right, so that’s the bad news. What’s the good news then?” Sam followed the doctor as she led him to the bed.  
  
“The good news is, due to the hot shower, he’s managed to clean a lot of the crap out of the open wounds, making our job a little easier. Ok. A quick rundown on his condition. We’re talking dehydration, heat exhaustion. He’s had the shit kicked out of him more than once, judging the age of some of the bruises, along with cracked ribs and pretty impressive sunburn. Dean’s injuries ain’t life threatening, but they’re gonna hurt like a bitch for a few days. Our main job will be to rehydrate him, and make sure his brain doesn’t boil. Do you agree with my diagnosis, nurse Winchester?” Sandra asked with a twinkling smile.  
  
Sam’s eyes swept up and down Dean’s body. He nodded. “I completely agree with your diagnosis and I’m impressed with your use of medical terminology, doctor. As a favour to me, don’t let Dean hear you calling me nurse Winchester or I’ll never hear the end of it. How we going to handle it?” Sam smiled at the doctor, liking her attitude, standing ready to help.  
  
Sandra was pleased with Sam’s manner. If he’d started hand wringing or whimpering, he would’ve been outside on his fine ass. But from what Amber had told her about the brothers that had been the last thing she’d expected. “Amber, get the IV pole and set it up. I’ve got some fluids with me and I’ll start pushing them through. I’ve also got enough antibiotics to start a biological war against half the bacteria in the state. Dean allergic to anything?” She looked at Sam who shook his head.  
  
“While we’re doing that, Amber, try and cool him down. Now I hate to do this, Sam, but I can’t really risk giving him too much pain relief until his temp is down. I need to know he’s lucid before I send him off to La-La land. What his pain threshold like?” Amber had finished setting up the IV pole, and Sandra was setting up the first bag of fluid. She lifted Dean’s hand, cleaned it, then with quick efficient movements she slid home a long needle and inserted the cannula to allow her to set up the drip. Dean stirred slightly when that happened then stopped moving. Sandra frowned but carried on working. She picked up several vials, and began to inject contents directly into the cannula.  
  
“Right, that’s the first dose of antibiotics in. Something for nausea and some Ibuprofen to help with any muscle cramping. You never answered my question, Sam. But after what Amber and the girls told me and judging by the scars your brother has, I’d say his pain threshold’s pretty damn high, right?” Sandra stepped back, looking sympathetically at Sam.  
  
“Yeah, he’s got a very high threshold. Well, he’s very good at hiding how bad the pain is. If you ask on a scale of one to ten what the pain’s like, it’s usually a five, add on two and you’re getting closer.” Sam was staring at his brother as he spoke.  
  
Sandra nodded thoughtfully, “Let’s get on with it, shall we? What do you say, Sam? Start at the top and work our way down? I think his feet are gonna need some work; I’m thinking local anaesthetic for that. Ready? Oh, I need to wake him up for a minute, alright, Sam? Feel free to raid the med kits, and cut loose. Ok people we got a long afternoon ahead of us, well come on let’s go.” Sandra moved closer to Dean’s head. She could see Sam sorting through the supplies and Amber was placing the bags of ice, behind his knees, between his thighs, and his arm pits. She was just about to place the last one behind his neck when Sandra motioned for her to wait.  
  
She sighed to herself; she really didn’t want to have to cause the battered man on the bed more pain but sometimes being a doctor really sucked. Sandra reached over stroked gently along Dean’s collar bone and then pressed down with her knuckle hoping the painful stimulus would wake him, “Come on, honey, I need to look at those beautiful green eyes of yours. All the girls raved about ‘em, now I want to see them for myself.” Sandra kept up the pressure, watching as Dean’s eyes flicked back and forth rapidly beneath his eyelids.  
  
Finally she was rewarded by them fluttering open. As Dean came to with a gasp, shocked, dazed eyes stared up at her. She could see he was trying to figure out where the hell he was. “Hi there, honey. The girls weren’t lying to me when they told me you had pretty eyes. Now let me look at them.” Sandra checked the pupils, “Equal and reactive. Good, no concussion then. Dean, honey, I need you to stay awake for me, while we get your temperature down, alright? We’ll patch you up real quick and then you can get some rest.” She moved and started to work on cleaning the many cuts and grazes, on the man lying on the bed.  
  
Sam was already working, carefully cleaning a cut made by one of the knives thrown at his brother during the last part of the Trial. He felt Dean’s hands tighten into fists, grabbing the blue material on the bed, as he tried to block out what he and Sandra where doing. Sam lifted his eyes to look at his brother’s face. Dean was staring at the ceiling. Sam knew he was getting ready to leave the building once more, then Dean’s eyes went unfocused and Sam relaxed. Dean had put himself far away from the pain of his injuries, and the treatment he was enduring.  
  
Sam worked in earnest; he didn’t want Dean like that for too long. He knew this would take time, but he still wanted the patching up done as soon as possible; he worked on cleaning and covering the wounds. Sandra worked in tandem the other side of Dean, both of them concentrating on what they were doing.  
  
Sam and Sandra carried on their grisly toil, cleaning debris from the cuts and washing them out with antiseptic, then moving on to repeat the process all over again. Amber went to the bathroom and filled a bowl with tepid water; her cousin had warned her against using cold water. The ice was doing was doing the hard work of cooling him; all she had to do was help it along. Now she stood at the head of the bed, and gently wiped Dean’s face with a cool damp cloth. She carried on down his neck and swept the cloth over his chest, trying to avoid as many of the scratches as possible. Then she dipped the cloth in the bowl, wrung it out and started again. The three of them fell into an easy rhythm, time passing as they worked.  
  
She wiped Dean’s face again and noticed glassy eyes fixed on her. There was a line between his eyebrows and his lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. She leant forward to catch the words Dean was saying then she heard Sandra talking to Sam.  
  
“It’s a damned hard life you two boys lead, ain’t it? You’ve done this more than a few times, I can tell. Because you’re damned good at what you’re doing, Sam, it speaks of lots and lots of practice. I got qualified nurses who ain’t got your touch.” Sandra watched the young man opposite her, cleaning a fairly deep cut. Dean flinched slightly and without stopping, Sam rested his hand Dean’s arm, the touch calming the injured man once more.  
  
He looked over at her, his hazel eyes filled with resignation; this was hurting him almost as much as it was hurting his older brother, “We’ve both had lots of practice at this kind of thing. Although Dean does better stitches than me; they’re always neat and small. Dean spent a lot of his childhood patching our Dad up. Welcome to the family business, doc - hunting ghosts and monsters, and they tend not to go quietly. If he wasn’t patching us up it was the other way round. Dean has an amazing ability to get between me and the things that want to kill me. It means I’m really good at putting him back together....Dean?” While Sam had been talking he’d felt a change in his brother. His muscles were tensing and Sam realized he hadn’t been able to lock himself away; it must be the high temperature, he thought. A tremor ran through Dean’s body and his muscles started to cramp.  
  
Sam stood up and began to massage Dean’s thigh muscle when it went tight and Dean’s face contorted, “Sam, keep that up, I’ll keep on cleaning. Amber, what the hell you doin’? You’re supposed to be cooling him down.” Sandra snapped out.  
  
Amber looked up, “It’s Dean. He’s trying to say something. I can’t make it out.” She turned back to Dean. His eyes roamed round the room, struggling to make sense of what was happening to him. Amber kept soothing his overheated skin with the cloth, willing it to work faster. Amber stroked his face gently with her hand. At that touch Dean turned into it and what he was saying became clearer.  
  
“Mom?” Dean’s voice sounded impossibly young when he uttered that soft plea, and that one word stopped Sam dead as he looked up at his delirious brother. He moved up the bed and gently touched his cheek. Dean’s eyes snapped onto Sam, a look of loss and confusion crossed his face. Sam felt his heart constricting. This was Dean with his walls down, the only time he allowed his losses to come to the surface, “Hey bro, how you doing? You’re a little hot. Want something to drink?” As Sam spoke softly, Amber turned and rummaged in the cooler bag they brought in. She pulled out of bottle of cold Gatorade and passed it to Sam.  
  
Sam unscrewed the cap, carefully lifted Dean’s head and held the bottle to Dean’s dry lips. Nothing happened at first when Sam tilted the bottle then finally Dean took a drink. His eyes slid closed as the cool liquid trickled down his throat. Sam waited and tried again, feeling his hopes rise as Dean continued to drink. Sam took the bottle away; he needed the fluid to stay down, and if Dean drank too much too quickly, he’d likely throw up. Sam gently massaged the back of his brother’s neck, watching Dean relax into his touch, letting Sam take care of him for once.  
  
Amber handed Sam the cloth and went to take his place, continuing to clean the cuts and massage tired cramping muscles like Sandra was doing. Sam picked up the cloth and started to mop Dean’s face. Once again green eyes opened; he fixed Sam with a searching look. The young man felt his heart stutter at that look. Everything was there in Dean’s eyes - the loss and pain he’d endured in his life and the desperate need for his family all swam clearly in his expressive gaze. “S’mmy, is Dad here? Is he alright?” Dean’s words were slurred; Sam didn’t know what to do. He looked away from those piercing eyes, unable to tell him the truth about their Dad being Dad and bring the crushing loss of their father back down on burdened shoulders once more.  
  
He looked at Amber and Sandra, and the women stopped working, watching him. Sam pulled himself together and looked back to his brother, “He’s not here, Dean, he’s working a gig with Bobby. You just need to relax and cool down, ok?” Sam was impressed; he managed to keep his voice steady as he lied. He didn’t feel guilty, as he knew Dean wouldn’t remember any of this once these fever-induced dreams passed. Dean never did. Sam carried the memories of Dean begging him and Dad to stay and not leave him behind again. Sam managed a slight smile, and carried on trying to cool his brother down.  
  
As he bathed heated skin with cool water Dean said, “It’s ok, I get it. Dad doesn’t want to stick around a screw-up like me, and I know you’ll go back to school soon, Sammy. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine...” His voice faded and he gasped as another wave of cramping swept through his body, his head thrown back, his teeth gritted. The jolt of pain going through him brought him back to the room, and Dean’s eyes became clearer as he took in his surroundings.  
  
Sam wiped him down again, “Amber, we need more ice. These bags have nearly melted, come on, Dean, breathe through it. That’s it.” He was aware of Amber leaving the room, and he carried on keeping his brother calm.  
  
When Amber returned, Sam helped fill more bags of ice. Sandra looked up, “Sam, I’m going to need help turning Dean over. I have to look at his back.”  
  
Sam left Amber and went to help Sandra, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder. His brother winced at the touch, making Sam’s heart ache, “Ok, Dean, you need to turn over. Sandra wants to check out your ass and she can’t do that with you lying like this.” Sam wasn’t sure if Dean was with him, then he heard a weak laugh, making him relax a litle. Dean’s temperature must be coming down.  
  
Dean made a weak effort to turn himself over, and Sam helped to roll him. He heard Dean groaning as his chest hit the bed. Sam patted his shoulder gently, and looked at Sandra.  
  
He saw Sandra’s face as she took in the extensive bruising and welts from the beating, along with the older bruises to his shoulders; she couldn’t keep her professional demeanour in place. Her breath caught, and she reached out, gently running her fingers down Dean’s body, probing the marks carefully.  
  
Dean shuddered at the touch, and managed to look over his shoulder, “Lady, you sure you’re a doctor? Because the last time I got touched like that, Sammy spent the night alone in the motel.” The words were still slurred, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes.  
  
Sandra grinned, “Oh, honey, of course I’m a doctor, but you tell me where it says I can’t enjoy my work? Darling, you got the kind of ass that makes up for all the saggy asses I see every day. Shame about the bruises though. Feel like sticking around so I can see it when it ain’t black and blue?” She gave a throaty laugh as she picked up fresh gauze, ready to start cleaning the new injuries turning Dean over had revealed.  
  
Sam brought fresh bags of ice to the bed and began to place them round Dean. He put his hand in the centre of Dean’s back and was shocked at how warm he still was. He looked up at Dean’s eyes and once again he seemed to be drifting away. Sam packed as many bags he could around his brother, making him shiver. Sam ignored the trembling and started to wipe Dean down again with a damp cloth. He glanced at Sandra who was frowning at Dean, noticing that he was slipping away again.  
  
“Sam, keep on going. I don’t want to have to put him in a bath to cool him down, but if this keeps up I won’t have a choice. I’d only do the same at the clinic. We can’t afford those fancy cooling blankets; we have to do things old school....Dean, come on, calm down, you’ll hurt yourself.”  
  
While they’d been talking Dean had become agitated, fighting against the cold seeping into his body. He just wanted to get away from the cold and get warm again. His skin hurt and he just wanted to go to sleep but the cold wouldn’t let him rest. Dean tried to get up but he felt hands pushing him down. The feeling of being held down made him fight back against unknown enemies, lashing out frantically.  
  
Sam was struggling to hold his brother, “What the fuck, Sandra? I thought he was getting better. He was cooling down. What’s happening?” Sam was trying desperately to keep his agitated brother calm. Sandra looked at Dean, trying to comprehend what was happening to him then something caught her eye.  
  
As Dean kicked out the doctor saw something, “It’s his feet. It looks like one of them has an infection developing. I think there’s something in a wound. That would explain the spike in temperature. Ok, you need to calm him down, and I’ll get to work on his feet.” Sandra turned away and started to prepare for more serious medical attention for Dean.  
  
Sam ducked out of the way of a well-aimed elbow. Even half out of his mind, weak with fever, his brother was still a dangerous opponent. Sam motioned for Amber to stand back. He let go of Dean and straightened to attention. He drew in a breath and offered a silent apology for what he was about to do. “DEAN WINCHESTER! You lie still for the doctor, so she can patch you up. Suck it up, son, it’s just ice. It won’t hurt you.” Sam’s voice came out in a frighteningly accurate impression of their father. He felt a wave of grief flow over him when Dean stopped moving and lay still, shivering weakly as he desperately tried to obey a John Winchester order.  
  
Amber looked on in shock, “What the hell just happened, Sam? I thought we were going to have to restrain him. What did you just do?” She watched as Sam moved back beside his brother. The hunter picked up the cloth, wrung it out, and gently pressed it against the back of Dean’s neck.  
  
“You just witnessed one of our Dad’s lasting legacies. It was something that caused a lot of trouble between me and Dean. Dad was very good at giving orders, and Dean was brilliant at obeying him - the times I’ve called him daddy’s little solider. Yet when I have to, I use the thing I hated most, to deal with Dean when nothing else will reach him. God, I’m sorry, dude. Sandra, you found anything?” Sam’s tone was resigned at having to do that, but he had no other option. If it was a choice between using Dad’s orders, or letting Dean get worse, then he’d become a drill sergeant in a heartbeat.  
  
Sandra was scrutinizing Dean’s feet, “They’re like the rest of him...a mess. We’re talking deep bruising and lacerations...and ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. I can see the problem...problems - debris lodged deep; I’ll start numbing his feet and get to work. Is he going to behave because I like my nose as it is? It’s one of my best features.” Sandra prepared the local anaesthetic as she spoke.  
  
Sam was repositioning the bags of ice. He looked at Dean whose teeth were chattering, and Sam could see there was a real battle going on inside of Dean. On one hand, he was trying to follow dad’s orders and stay still. On the other, Dean’s natural instincts to escape from what he perceived to be the source of his pain, was heart rending. Knowing Dean would crawl over broken glass if Dad had told him to he looked at Sandra, “Go ahead, Sandra. Dean will stay still and that’s a promise.” Sam returned to trying to cool his brother down. He reached out and placed his hand over Dean’s just to let him know he wasn’t alone in this fight.  
  
Sandra concentrated on what she was doing. Amber came and stood by her, “Good, you can help. I’ll need to wash the wounds out with saline so I can see what’s going on. That’s your job, Amber. Ok, Sam, the local’s working, but with how deep some of these things are, I hate to say it, it’s still gonna hurt.”  
  
Before Sam had a chance to answer another voice beat him to it, “Go ahead, doc, do your worst. When you’ve been operated on by Dr Frankenstein’s creature up there, anything else is a walk in the park.” Dean’s rough voice brought Sam down to his knees, so he was level with Dean’s eyes.  
  
Sam gave his brother a smile. He could see Dean was drifting in and out of reality, but he hoped by being close he’d give Dean something to hold onto. Dean shivered again, and Sam wanted nothing more than to pick up the bags of ice and dump them in the trash but they had to cool him down. But that was something he couldn’t do, no matter what, Dean had to cool down. Sam set up an easy rhythm, keeping the cool damp cloth moving. All the while his thumb stroked back and forth across the back of Dean’s hand; knowing the contact would distract Dean from what was happening. Then slowly his brother’s eyelids slipped closed again. Sam relaxed when that happened; he was hoping the cooling was starting to work, and now Dean could finally get some well-earned rest.  
  
Sam looked down the bed where Sandra and Amber were working. Sandra was concentrating hard, and Amber looked more than a little queasy, “If you’re gonna puke or faint, you give me that damn bottle and fall backwards and not on top of sexy lying here. You hear me, girl?” Sandra looked up at her cousin a smile on her face, “Amber, you’re doin’ great. I know this is hard, but trust me, you’re doin’ fine. Speaking of fine, how’re you and Dean holding up?” Sandra’s warm brown eyes met Sam’s.  
  
Sam shrugged, “You know. Same shit, different day. It’s nice to have help rather than try and clean him up, hold him down and keep him cool on my own. It’s days like this I wish that Dad was.... or figure out how to clone myself. Keep going, Sandra. The sooner it’s done the better, and thanks for this.” Sam’s sad but earnest smile brought one in return.  
  
Sandra looked back at her work. She pulled at a deeply embedded piece of debris, frowning, “Sugar, if you figure out how to clone yourself, put me down for one. Oh and do one of your brother as well. I’d hate to break up a set.....come on, come on, you stubborn piece of... got it!” As she said that she smiled triumphantly as the debris came free. “It looks like I was right, Sam, this is the source of the problem. If we get this cleaned out and wrapped up, Dean should feel better, and his temp will start to drop.”  
  
Sandra carried on, and then Sam noticed Dean’s hand moving; he was gripping the bed tightly once more, and Sam knew that his brother could feel the probing and pulling of the debris removal. Sam gently prised the white-knuckled hand loose, “I don’t care how chick flick this is, you hold onto to me and stay with me, Dean. Almost done, I promise.” Sam wrapped his brother’s hand in his and squeezed gently.  
  
Dean blearily opened his eyes, and rolled them at Sam, “Can you get any more girlie, Samantha? I keep telling you, I’m fine....SON OF A BITCH!” Dean ground out and grabbed Sam’s fingers tightly, gritting his teeth and breathing harshly through the pain.  
  
Sam looked up in shock at his brother’s exclamation. He swung to face Sandra, ready to ask what the fuck she thought she was doing. The demand for answer died on his lips when he looked at her.  
  
Sitting back with a look of victory on her face, the doctor held something in the tweezers. She held it up to the light, “Here ya go, folks, the villain of the piece. It’s a splinter. Some kind of thorn or wood. I’d say about two inches long. It wasn’t lying horizontal in his foot, it had pushed straight in. It must’ve been like walking with a nail driven through his foot. How the hell did he manage to do that? Ok, Superman, we’re really over the worst part. It’s just cleaning and patching up now.” Sandra looked down again.  
  
“Not Superman....more like Batman. He’s got the coolest car, and I got my own Robin. You should see him in tights....” Dean said softly, and then he coughed. Sam reached for the Gatorade and brought the bottle to his brother’s lips.  
  
Sandra looked at the young men as she worked. That splinter had been the root cause of the infection that caused Dean’s temperature to spike. She put pressure on where the splinter had been, cleaning out the infection until all that ran from the wound was bright red blood. Then she smothered the area in antibiotic cream, and covered Dean’s tattered feet with gauze and bandaged them.  
  
Sandra sat back, damn her back was killing her from sitting like this for so long. She was ready to finish cleaning the other injuries, but for a moment she took her time to study the brothers. She’d been waiting to meet the young men since last night after a phone call from Albert about where Amber had gone, and he’d warned her of what was to happen. Many years ago she too had set out on the Shaman’s path, but she’d had soon discovered that her healing skills lay with conventional medicine and not medicine bags. She’d become a doctor, but she still held her belief in the Ancestors and had gone with Albert to the canyon in the past to help with the rituals. Then when the trouble at the site started she and the Albert had waited for what his dreams had told him would come to pass. That Amber would face Great Bear, and she would be helped by a pair of warriors - brothers, and there they were in front of her.  
  
Sandra felt humbled to be part of this. Not only had Sam and Dean saved Amber and her friends but they had managed to save Great Bear and the rest of the ghostly tribe from destruction. Albert knew about hunters; as a shaman he’d dealt with them in the past. They had come to him when they had needed help or totems to deal with restless spirits. He’d known that if the ghosts had become more violent and other hunters had come, then they wouldn’t have hesitated to destroy the canyon and the ghosts within. But these young men had managed to deal with Great Bear, and allowed the warriors to remain in that sacred place.  
  
They had proved to her that there were still warriors out there in the world. Men prepared to put their lives in jeopardy for others, and she knew the brothers would do it time and time again. Sandra looked on as Sam carried on bathing Dean, smiling at something Dean had muttered. The young man seemed to be relaxing, happier, knowing his brother was no longer in the grip of a fever.  
  
Sandra stood up and stretched, “Ok, kiddies, let’s finish up, and turn Dean here into a mummy. How’s the ice, honey?”Sandra asked Dean as she moved back up his body.  
  
Dean turned his head to her and gave a weak grin, “Freakin’ freezing, and they said Sam got all the brains in the family. Any chance we’re gonna be done before little Dean gets frostbite? It’s just that I’m very attached to him.” His teeth chattered as he spoke.  
  
Sandra produced a thermometer; she hadn’t needed it before. Dean’s symptoms had told her how dangerously high his temperature was; now it was time to check it properly. She slipped it under Dean’s tongue and he glared up at her mutinously. “You just relax, honey. If you’re a good boy I’ll let Sam start removing the ice bags. Plus I’d hate to deprive the women of the world of yours and little Dean’s company.” She heard Sam laugh and Dean just scowled at that.  
  
Sandra checked the IV. The bag of fluid was empty so she changed it over. “Sam, the second bag should be enough to rehydrate Dean, especially if you can get him to drink. I’ll leave another one with you in case. Ok, Dean, honey, let me look at your temperature.....one hundred. Still a little warm, but nothing to worry about. It should keep coming down. Sam, I’ll leave my number. If his temperature goes up, you fetch me right away, ok? Oh and you can start to get rid of the ice.” She heard the sigh of relief from Dean as Sam and Amber began to ease the bags from around his body.  
  
Once again Sam helped Sandra with cleaning and bandaging Dean. Sandra was happy enough with Dean’s temperature that she injected some sedative into his IV port, and they watched as Dean finally slipped into much-needed sleep. The final injuries they tended were the ones to Dean’s wrists, the ghostly rope had bitten deeply, bruising and tearing the fragile skin. Sam and Sandra cleaned the wounds carefully and then bandaged them. Then they sat back and took a look at the man lying on the bed. There was more bandages than skin on display, and the bruising promised to be even more spectacular in a couple of days. Sandra felt a sense of relief flow over her. It all could’ve been a hell of a lot worse, but the Great Spirit had been smiling on them and Dean would make a full recovery.  
  
The room looked as if a bomb had gone off; there were medical supplies strewn everywhere. She sighed. Time to start cleaning up, but before that, “Sam, help me move Dean. I’m gonna put some fresh sheets on the bed. I don’t want to see all our hard work go to waste because he’s lying on damn motel sheets.” Sandra reached into a bag and produced sheets from the clinic. Once again Sam lifted Dean off the bed; Dean made a soft sound of protest at being disturbed. Sandra watched the young man smile fondly at his sleeping sibling. She motioned to Amber to get to work on the bed. They stripped the soiled and damp sheets off the bed, and quickly replaced them with clean ones.  
  
Sandra stepped out of the way and Sam placed his brother back on the bed, covering him with a sheet, “I suppose I ought to let him have a little modesty, although Amber spent the day seeing him naked.” Sam grinned at the young shaman as she blushed.  
  
Sandra was picking up the trash. “Damn shame she only got to view that fine ass being kicked, but I live in hope of seeing it when he gets better.” Sam quirked an eyebrow at the doctor. She grinned back unrepentantly, “I mean for medical purposes only, of course. Now you two gonna just stand there, or you gonna help me clean this place up. Then I want the two of you to get some rest. You’re not gonna be any good to Dean if you keel over. Now come on.” They set to work.  
  
Soon the room was tidy once more and Sandra was giving Dean a final check, “Really, all you can do is get him to rest. He should be up and about long before I’m happy that’s he’s up and about. Am I right?” She looked at Sam who just rolled his eyes at her. “Why am I not surprised? Ok, Sam, I’ve left you antibiotics and painkillers, and tell your brother not to be a damn hero about it. If it hurts, tell him to take the damn painkillers. Come, Amber, let’s get you home so you can get cleaned up and come back here.” Amber looked startled as Sandra said that, “Oh, come on, girl. There’s no way you won’t be back. Now come on.” Sandra took hold of Amber’s arm and led her out of the room.  
  
Sam sat down gently on the bed beside Dean; he reached out to straighten the sheet. He glanced round the room, and he realized how much time had passed, it had been early afternoon when they’d started to work on his brother’s injuries. Now judging by the shadows in the room, several hours had gone by. He let his hand rest on Dean’s chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his brother’s heart. Sam looked into Dean’s sleeping face. All signs of pain were gone and he looked at peace. Sam knew Dean was far from being at peace, “Looks like we dodged another bullet. How many more times is that going to happen before our luck runs out? God, Dean, I don’t know why you think I can do this without you. I need you here. I just got used to us being brothers again. Get some rest, jerk; I know you’ll soon be up and about, driving me nuts.” Sam gently patted Dean’s chest and pulled up a chair to sit with him.  
  
  
Sam was sitting at the table looking at his lap top when the door knocked. He’d been expecting it. He smiled and went over to the door. It was dark outside Amber stood there and she’d brought food with her. Sam’s face lit up with a warm smile.  
  
“Evening, Sam. Well, I couldn’t let you starve while you looked after our hero, now could I?” Amber sat down and looked over to Dean’s sleeping form. “I brought some soup for Dean. Sandra’s orders. I’m kind of glad he’s still asleep. I’d hate to disappoint him about the steak and all the trimmings. That’s for you. How’s he doing?” Amber turned back to look at Sam; he looked tired but happy.  
  
Sam was just about to start eating; he looked over at Dean. “He woke up earlier. I got him to drink another bottle of Gatorade, and he went back to sleep. I managed to get a shower and I’ve been taking it easy before the fun starts, and Dean tries to get out of staying in bed. There have been times I’ve considered handcuffing him to the bed, but I’m sure he’d escape. Are you ok? And did Sandra patch Daryl up? I forgot to ask earlier.” He sat back.  
  
Amber smiled and leaned back in her chair, “Well, I wish you luck looking after Dean. And all things considered, I’m fine and Daryl is keeping a very low profile. Word is getting out about what happened at the canyon. The elders want to talk to Daryl about Great Bear and his men being summoned. They’re not very happy with him at the minute. And don’t worry, Sam. No one knows about you and Dean being there.”  
  
Sam relaxed when she said that. He really didn’t want to have to move Dean any time soon, and if people started asking questions about them, then they’d have to move on.  
  
“Amber, back at the canyon. That song about Dean. I got the warrior part, but Dean, a shaman? That I didn’t get. After all you’re a shaman. How come they called him that?” Sam pushed his food around his plate.  
  
“Dean acted as mediator between the warriors and us, between the living and the dead. It is part of what a shaman does, and if you think about it, you two do it all the time. My role as shaman encompasses that and more. I perform magic and ask the Ancestors for guidance. You and Dean have always walked with one foot in the world of the spirit. After all, you lay restless spirits to rest. I do the same.” She smiled at Sam, waiting to see what he would say to that.  
  
“We lay spirits to rest, alright, but we don’t use ritual and prayer. We take the direct approach - rock salt and burning the bones. I still don’t get how we compare.” He looked perplexed.  
  
Amber smiled, “Look, you set trapped sprits free. You send them onto their rest. So what if our methods differ. You and Dean are not so different to me. We fight the darkness. We just have different weapons at our disposal. Believe me. You deserve the title warrior and shaman for what you do. Don’t ever think otherwise.” She reached out and placed her hand on top of Sam’s.  
  
Just then Dean moaned softly and Sam’s head snapped round towards that sound. Amber knew their discussion was over, as Sam stood up to see what his brother needed. “Hey, Sam, do you need any help with Sleeping Beauty there?” Amber stood up and went to help Sam with Dean.  
  
Dean woke up slowly; he felt like he was floating which usually meant he’d had some of the good stuff. It felt as if he’d been wrapped in cotton wool, and he knew that feeling would soon disappear. And all the aches and pains would be back with a vengeance. He just wanted the blissful feeling to carry on as long as possible, but his bladder had more pressing issues. He groaned and managed to roll onto his side; he gritted his teeth as his body made its displeasure very plain at being disturbed. Dean did an inventory of himself, checking what hurt but after a few seconds he gave up on that. He decided to concentrate on what didn’t hurt, that was going to be quicker. After some consideration he decided his hair felt pretty good....then again, even that ached.  
  
He blinked his eyes and waited for them to focus, the bed next to him was empty. It was light and Sam was most likely up and around. Dean took as deep a breath as he could manage with his banged-up ribs yelling loudly at him, and slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. He waited for the room to stop whirling round and then he threw back the sheet. He looked down to find that Sam had put some boxers on him. Thank God for that, he thought, then Dean swung his legs out of bed. He’d forgotten about his feet, but he was soon reminded when they touched the floor.  
  
The room suddenly went dark as heat swept up his legs. His tortured feet howled when he tried to stand up; the next thing he knew there was a voice calling him, “Dean, damnit! Why is it every time I leave the room, you try to do yourself more damage? Where the Hell were you going this time?” Dean blinked a couple of times, and Sam’s angry features came into sharp focus.  
  
Dean smiled at the familiar bitch face, “And good morning to you too, Sammy. I need the bathroom if that’s alright with you. Now are you going to get out of my way or is this going to get physical?” Dean was trying for intimidating, but the effect was ruined when Sam let go of him and he started to topple forward.  
  
“Ok, maybe this time I’ll let you help me. But it’s only because I’m such a great brother to you, and I need to indulge your mother hen instincts from time to time.” Dean looked up and smiled weakly, and then he took hold of Sam’s arms, letting his brother pull him to his feet. The world went dark again, and once the fire in his legs became manageable, he indicated they were ready to move. Sam supported most of his weight as they walked to the bathroom.  
  
When they got there, Dean motioned for Sam to let go, “Sam, as much as I love you, there are certain things I have to do alone. Now back up.” Dean staggered inside.  
  
Sam stood waiting for him to come out. If he wasn’t out soon he was going in to fetch him and to hell with the bitching. The motel door knocked and Sam went to answer it. Amber stood there with breakfast, “Morning, Sam, I just happened to be passing when these pancakes fell into my bag, and I thought of my favourite hunter.....and what the hell are you doing out of bed?” Amber was looking past Sam as Dean struggled out of the bathroom.  
  
Sam turned around, walked to his brother and unceremoniously half carried him back to bed, “What are you gonna do now? Tuck me in and read me a bed-time story too? Hi, Amber. Did someone mention pancakes?” Dean looked hungrily at the food Amber carried.  
  
She grinned at him, “And good morning to you too. I’d ask how you’re feeling but I know all you’ll say is ‘I’m fine’. So Sam, how is he this morning?” She ignored Dean’s look of hurt innocence.  
  
Sam took off his jacket, “Oh, he’s being his usual stubborn self. I’d just gone to put something in the Impala and he was making a break for the bathroom. Situation normal. You ok, Amber?” Sam rolled up his sleeves and smiled at the young woman.  
  
Amber was just getting the pancakes out when they heard, “Ahhh, come on. Really?” Sam and Amber turned to look at Dean; he was staring at his left hand with a look of resignation on his face. His little finger was taped to his ring finger, obviously broken, “Shit! When I was doing the Trial yesterday, my little finger was the only part of me that didn’t hurt, and now you’re telling me it’s busted! Crap!” Dean looked up with an expression of misery of his face. Sam couldn’t help but burst out laughing, and Amber joined in.  
  
“Oh, that’s it! Mock an injured man. Thank you. Now I know where I stand. I get no respect. You get your ass kicked for people, and this is how you thank me...by laughing. Pass me some pancakes and I’ll forgive you. Let me have some coffee and I’ll love you forever.” Dean looked hopefully at his brother, who shook his head and brought him a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice. Dean looked mournfully at the cup of coffee Sam had. He sighed and started to eat with a moan of appreciation.  
  
At that noise Amber flushed and looked heavenwards. Damn! She wished Dean wouldn’t make sounds like that. She pulled herself together grabbed her and Sam’s plate, and then sat down by Sam on his bed. They ate quietly and then sat talking. Dean looked pale and complained when Sam made him take his meds, saying he didn’t need the painkillers but he caved when Sam had stood there with a forlorn look on his face.  
  
There was a knock at the door. Sam opened it and Sandra pushed past him, standing in the middle of the room. “You boys got any trouble with the Feds heading your way?” Sandra said by way of greeting.  
  
Sam looked at Dean in alarm, “How the hell did Hendrickson get on our trail so damn fast? Shit! We gotta get out of here now. Sorry, ladies, but you need to go.” Sam was trying to usher Amber and Sandra out of the room.  
  
Sandra just waved her hands at him, “Well, that answers my question. Relax, handsome, they ain’t coming for you just yet. The sheriff just told me the Feds are nosing round... well, good morning, honey. Lovely to see you up and about.” She smiled over at Dean and went to the bed.  
  
Dean smiled up at Sandra. He didn’t have too many clear memories of the woman, but he knew he liked her. She was examining him and he could see Sam building up to a meltdown, “Sandra, what did the sheriff tell you, and how did you get to hear about the F.B.I?” He gifted the doctor with a dazzling smile.  
  
She was checking Dean’s pulse, “Darlin’, you smile at me like that again and I’ll tell you anything you want. Listen, honey, if our esteemed sheriff wants his extra strength medicated shampoo for his almost terminal dandruff, he gives me the heads-up when I ask him to. It seems that some FBI agent is checking credit card transactions, looking for odd names, and something flagged up. They’ve asked the local sheriff’s department to see if they’ve had a recent visit from two very dangerous young fugitives. Good-looking boys. I saw the ‘wanted’ posters. They don’t do you two justice. Security cameras are never flattering.” As she said that Dean groaned softly, remembering the garage.  
  
Sam watched as Dean blanched, “What did you do, Dean?” He asked.  
  
“Why do you think it was me? It could’ve been anyone, Sam.” Dean looked guiltily at the wall behind Sam, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes.  
  
“What card did you use, Dean?” He said in an exasperated tone as he was moving around, packing up the duffle bags. He paused, waiting for an answer.  
  
Dean blushed, “The card was in the name of ‘Sirius Black’...look, I thought it was a simple job. In and out in a couple of days, max. I didn’t know this was gonna happen. I thought we’d be two states over before anyone spotted the name. Shit! He’s good.” Dean threw back the sheet, ready to bolt.  
  
Sam stood up straight, “Sirius Black! And you didn’t think it would draw attention? Damnit, Dean! You’re in no fit state to start running.” Sam stood glaring at him.  
  
Sandra watched the men in amusement. It was time to put them out of their misery, “Ok, Sam, stop looking like you’re about to kill my favourite patient. Dean, relax a minute. Me and Albert made an executive decision and now most of the town knows what you and Dean did. They know you saved Amber and the others, and what it took to do it, and it’s brought you a lot of goodwill. If asked, the good folk of the town will swear you two have passed through a week back and headed south. But I agree you need to be out of here, just in case. I’ve got an address you’re going to go to and lay low, until I tell hot stuff on the bed he’s fit to kick ghost ass again. Alright by you, boys?” Sandra stood there with her hands on her hips.  
  
Sam and Dean just gaped at one another. Sam shrugged. “I’ve got no problems at all with that idea, Sandra. Is this place safe? And are you sure you won’t get into trouble for this.” Sam was moving closer to the doctor.  
  
She smiled, reached up and patted Sam’s cheek, “Sugar, it’s more than safe. It’s tribal land, a spiritual retreat, and it’s run by a very good friend of mine. If your fed turns up, he’ll have that much red tape looped round him he’ll look like a Christmas gift. And she owes me a favour; she knows you’re coming and that I’ll be dropping by to check on your brother. So I won’t be getting into any trouble I won’t enjoy getting into. Now I’d get him dressed and get going, although I am enjoying the view.” Sandra leered at Dean and winked at him.  
  
Dean smirked back, “Sam, pass me my sweats, and a couple pairs of socks. There’s no way I can put boots on. I won’t have far to walk. Just to my baby...” Before he could finish his sentence, the clothes plus one of Sam’s hoodies appeared by him and Sam picked up a bag and headed for the door.  
  
Dean grinned, “I knew letting Sam join the scouts was a good idea, the boy is always prepared. By the way Sandra, is your friend as sexy as you?” He grinned at the now blushing woman.  
  
Sandra moved in front of Dean and picked up the sweats; she started to help Dean put them on, ignoring his protests. “Miriam as sexy as me? Honey, she’s seventy if she’s a day. But tell Sam to watch that cute ass of his - he’s just her type. Now let’s get these socks on, shall we?” Dean laughed at the thought of Sam fending off Sandra’s friend then he bit his lip as Sandra pulled the socks on his injured feet.  
  
Sam came back into the room and walked over to the bed. He picked up the hoodie and a silent battle waged between the brothers. Sam wanted to help Dean put it on, and Dean was determined he wasn’t going to. Finally Dean’s shoulders slumped and he let Sam pull the hoodie over his head and support his arms as he struggled into it. By the time he was dressed Dean felt drained; he had to admit he never would’ve managed it on his own.  
  
He sat there gathering his strength, and watched Sam as he finished packing away their belongings. He looked at Amber and Sandra, “Ladies, we can never thank you enough for this. Thanks for helping Sam patch me up and giving us the heads up about the feds, and getting us a place to lay low. You didn’t have to do that.” Dean looked at them with gratitude.  
  
Sandra sat on the bed beside him and took his hand, “Honey, it was the least I could do. You and your brother not only saved our future shaman and her friends, and hell, even Daryl, but with what you did, you ensured the canyon remained safe. Now Great Bear and his men can return to their rest, and for that there can never be enough thanks.” She smiled warmly at Dean and Sam.  
  
Sam picked up the bag, “Last one, Dean. I’ll be back to help you soon. For once just sit there and wait for me?” Sam asked pleadingly.  
  
“Hell, Sam, I ain’t moving from here till you drag me out. I got two beautiful ladies to keep me company. Take your time, dude. I’m happy where I am.” Dean smirked as Sam walked out of the room. He looked at Amber and Sandra, “You know we’re just hunters; we’re nothing special. We were in the right place at the right time, that’s all.” He squeezed Sandra’s hand and smiled.  
  
Sandra looked deep into Dean’s green eyes, and she knew no matter what they said, Dean would never see the good he did. Instead, she stood up and placed a kiss on the young man’s cheek, “You take care of yourself and that handsome brother of yours and you may have to protect his honour from Miriam. She’s one tenacious old biddy, trust me.” She winked at him and Dean laughed at her.  
  
Sam returned and smiled brightly, “Ok, we’re packed. Ready to go, Dean? Have you got that address, Sandra, and you’re sure your friend is ok with this?” Sam stepped forward and took Dean’s arm to steady him as he got off the bed. Sandra handed him a piece of paper and Sam read it.  
  
“Don’t worry. She’s waiting for you boys. She’s got a room ready and a place to stash Dean’s baby. Now it’s about an hour out west, and I’ll be over tomorrow to check on you and see about removing Dean’s IV port. And just as a warning, Miriam will do her level best to feed you up. She’ll take one look at your poor starved bodies, and start plying you with food.” She watched Dean’s face light up at the prospect.  
  
Sam was supporting most of Dean’s weight as moved. He said nothing but Sam saw the tell-tale clench of his brother’s jaw, and the way he stared at the door, setting himself a goal to get to. By the time they’d reached it Dean was pale and there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He smiled in relief when he saw that the Impala was parked by the door.  
  
As they reached the car, Sam pulled the door open and Dean sank into the familiar comfort of his baby with a sigh of relief. Sam knelt down and picked Dean’s legs up and put them in the car. He could see that even that short walk had exhausted his brother again, and he decided that no matter what Dean thought, he was going to help him. Sam lifted his eyes and saw the look of gratitude in Dean’s tired eyes. Sam smiled, stood and closed the door.  
  
He turned around to find Amber and Sandra stood behind him. “Don’t worry about the room, Sam. Me and Sandra will clean it, and Daryl’s American Express will have paid for a visit from a couple of old friends. I’ll see you guys soon. You don’t think I’m going to trust Sandra with your brother, do you?” Amber smiled at him and pulled him in for a hug.  
  
Sam stood back and smiled at Sandra who grinned, “When you get to Miriam, you put your brother right to bed. I’ve told her to take no messing about from gorgeous. She’ll make certain he behaves. See you tomorrow, Sam.” Sandra also gave Sam a hug, and then she watched as the young man walked around to the driver’s side.  
  
The car’s engine roared into life and as Sam pulled away, the women waved to Dean who managed a weak wave and a smile in return. As Amber watched them drive away she spoke to Sandra, “Do you think they will be alright?” She watched the tail lights vanish.  
  
Sandra put her arm round Amber, “Amber, as long as those two are side by side, it won’t matter what their life throws at them. They’ll fight it together.”  



End file.
